


Forces of Attraction

by khaleesimaka



Series: Soul Eater Fandom Events [4]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Awkward Family Moments, Exes, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Mutual Repression of Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:53:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9666641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesimaka/pseuds/khaleesimaka
Summary: Soul and Maka are exes in every sense of the word except on Facebook.A memo Soul fails to tell his family when they invite the pair for a week long getaway at their lake house. What’s meant to be a relaxed vacation grows more complicated as time wanes down and Maka wonders if she broke up with Soul for the right reasons. Fake Dating Exes AU.





	1. Stubborn Love

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my third and final entry for Resbang 2016! I had the pleasure of working with leslietendo on tumblr for the event, and it was a huge pleasure to have her as my partner. She was so supportive and patient with me throughout the process. I also enjoyed talking with her and sharing ideas for the story as well as for her art. Her art is embedded throughout the fic.
> 
> Happy reading!

" _Soul_?" she asks a little incredulously.

He opens his mouth to respond, but promptly closes it because he doesn't have a very good excuse as to why he's standing on her doorstep. The last of his belongings have been moved from her apartment for a well over a month now. It isn’t his turn to take Blair for the week as per to the custody order they had agreed on when he left. Maybe if he’s forgotten a mug or one of his movies were mixed with hers he’d have a proper reason to be there. Unfortunately, neither of those are the case so her shock over seeing him again is understandable.

Soul doesn’t blame her. He isn’t a fan of seeing his ex-girlfriend of two months ago, either.

Maka was meant to remain in the past, only seen when it’s his turn to take the cat, but, the situation called for this.

"May I come in?" he asks.

"No," she sharply tells him, a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

She crosses her arms and places her small frame firmly in the doorway to block his path. It doesn't mean much, though. He can easily push her out of the way and enter considering how tiny and slender she is with absolutely zero intimidation in her features to someone who doesn't know her. Her legs are probably her most deadly weapon, but he also knows she's ticklish behind her knees which gives him a slight advantage. So, really, her blocking him is comical at best.

Even knowing this, though, he doesn't dare consider overpowering her and forcing his way inside because this is still _her_ apartment. His name is long gone from the lease they had signed when they first moved in, and he's too scared to try her. He'd rather not take his chances and end up in jail because of breaking and entering or knocked out in a hospital bed for a week from one of her punches.

It's best not to test Maka.

"Whatever you have to say you can say it out here."

Sighing, Soul relents, "My family doesn't know we broke up since our Facebook statuses still say we're together."

"Then I'll change it," she shrugs. "You didn't have to come out here to tell me that. You could've text me or something... If I still had your number, that is."

Soul refrains from rolling his eyes. He knows perfectly well she does indeed still has his number in her phone. She probably doesn’t have it filed under his name and instead replaced it with a choice word or two, but she definitely still has it.

"Yeah, well, that's not the only reason I'm here." She juts her chin asking him to continue. "Since my family still thinks we're together, they invited you to our lake house for a week because they think I'd have more fun with my _girlfriend_ there.”

The way he says _girlfriend_ is filled with venom and distaste as if it were a rotten apple or moldy cheese. Maka doesn't miss this, and he finds far too much glee in her glare than he should.

"Then tell them you and your _girlfriend_ ," she mimics his tone, "broke up. It's not that complicated."

Her unwillingness to agree doesn't surprise him. He’d turn down the offer too if his ex showed up on his doorstep asking to pretend to be together for one week. But, at the same time, he knows her weakness exactly like she knows his.

"How 'bout you tell my mom that while she's going on and on about finally having a Pictionary buddy who can help her win against me and Wes?"

She softens at the mention of his mom.

"Yeah, doesn't seem that easy, does it?"

"Leave Evelyn out of this," Maka growls. "She's a nice lady who isn't part of this."

"Newsflash, Maka, she is part of this when my mother enjoys your company and will be upset to hear we've broken up. Can't imagine why she likes you 'cause you're a fat ankled girl who -- Oof!"

He doubles over from having the wind knocked out of him while Maka shakes out the hand she used to punch him in the gut.

"The fuck, Maka!"

"That's what you get for being so goddamn rude!"

"You didn't have to punch me, though."

"That's what I do when guys are being jackasses, remember?”

Soul recovers a few seconds later. Pointing out Maka's physical flaws isn't how he's going to convince her to go to the lake house with him. In fact, it'll do the complete opposite, and if he hasn't fucked things up by now, he’ll have to face the music and tell his family the truth. He doesn't know which is worse: kissing a girl he's supposed to have zero feelings for for a week or spending a week with his family's comments about him screwing up the best thing he had. The former is more appealing.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he drops his gaze from hers and pouts at the faded yellow mat below his feet. The letters on it are worn with the W and E barely visible;the only two letters that are readable are the M and E. How ironic. At least the sunflowers are still there like they had been when they bought the welcome mat together.

"Sorry for saying your ankles are fat and being a jackass," he mumbles. Honestly, his hostility comes from the sourness of their break up, but he chooses not to mention that. "I didn't come here to do that. I came to ask if you'd come with me to our lake house and _pretend_ that we're still together for a week."

Maka doesn't say anything, but the anger vibrating off her body does dissipate. Barely. It's enough confirmation that she won't hurt him as he glances at her beneath his bangs. The same way he had done so many times during their relationship when he was in trouble and she would forgive him with a kiss and a smile.

Neither of those happen, though.

“At least this way you'll have a chance to say goodbye to my family properly,” he adds as an afterthought. “I know you always did like ‘em.”

The _more than me_ tastes bitter where it sits on his tongue.

She's silent for what feels like an eternity. Her body stiffens as she stands there, chewing on the inside of her mouth and mulling over his words. He sees the war raging on in her mind as she debates whether to take the bait or not. Dark green eyes steadily lighten as she comes to a decision, and--

“If I agree to this, there will be a couple ground rules,” she says.

His heart gives a gentle tug at her words. “Not surprising.”

“First, you and I are absolutely, without a doubt, not getting back together when this week is over. I don't want this ending up being a ploy for us to be a couple again.”

“Wouldn't even dream of getting back with you,” he bites.

“Feeling's mutual,” she grins. “Second, after this week is over, you're only to come to the apartment for Blair. You're my ex for a reason, and I'd like it to stay that way.”

It stings for her to push him out of her life even more, but he nods his response, tightening his mouth because he doesn't trust his voice.

“I guess we’re back together for the week,” she says, more to herself than him. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”

“Trust me. Neither can I.”

“So, what time are we leaving? Are you gonna pick me up?”

“No, you can drive your ass to the train station on Friday, and I'll meet you there with your ticket,” he says.

“We’re going by train?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says. “I'd rather not be stuck in a car with you for three hours.”

Maka rolls her eyes. “You're a regular Prince Charming, you know.”

“Thanks. I try,” he smiles, sharp teeth and all.

She doesn't return it. Instead, she places her hand on the door to close it indicating the conversation is over. Soul follows suit, stuffing his hands in his pockets and giving her a curt nod as he faces the direction of the parking lot. Maybe a nice drive around town on his motorcycle will help soothe the ache in his heart and the need to be with Maka. He always did find peace in the roar of his baby and the freedom she gave him.

“Bye, Soul.”

“Bye.”

The ‘love ya’ dances on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it down to prevent it from escaping. It pains him more than he wants to admit to not end their goodbye with it after so many years of doing so. He isn't sure if he's ready to pretend to be with Maka for a week, but he figures it'll do some good. At least, it'll give him a chance to be with her one last time and fill the void his dreams leave him with, particularly the ones revolving around her and them and who they were before. It's a selfish reason, but it's the only way he knows how to do it.

Faith has given him an opportunity to be with her for an extra week, and he's determined to make the most out of it.

Even if it'll no doubt leave him even more broken hearted than before.

* * *

It’s five in the morning on Friday when he wakes up to catch his train at eight.

Though, _wake up_ is a very loose interpretation of the word.

He snoozes his alarm from five in the morning until close to seven in thirty minute intervals as his body refuses to get up. It isn’t until he sees the combination of Maka’s name on his screen and the time he’s finally inspired to get out of bed. Years of dealing with his ex-girlfriend’s insistent need to be on time for any event (movies, dates, meetings) has taught him when he needs to get his ass out the door. Especially when he’s the one who has her train ticket.

"'Lo?' he groggily says jumping into what he hopes are a clean pair of pants.

"Are you still asleep?" she asks in greeting.

"I'm not asleep, thanks." Soul stifles a yawn. "I'm getting up."

Maka's irritation practically seethes through the line as she says, "You do remember that you're the one who has our tickets. _Supposedly_. Since knowing you, you probably haven't even bothered to get them." The sound of her rummaging through something on the other end meets his ears. "If you want, I'll buy them now, and you can pay me back later. So long as you get your ass out of bed, that is."

"Don't bother. I bought them and printed them out last night."

"You did?" There’s a hint of surprise mixed with confirmation in her tone.

"Yes. Now gimme twenty minutes to get over there. I don't live far from the station."

A brief silence on the phone.

"I didn't know you lived close," she says.

"Yeah, I do."

Soul sorts through the pile of dirty clothes on his floor for a shirt and sniffs each one until he finds one that’s fairly _clean_ smelling. Thankfully he had showered the previous night so he doesn’t need to worry about stinking too bad. All he needs to do is put on some deodorant, a dab of cologne, and he’ll be appropriate to sit by Maka for four hours.

"I'll see you in a few with coffee," he grumbles.

"Better be a caramel macchiato," is all she says before the beep indicating she hung up sounds.

Sighing, he tosses his phone onto his bed before changing shirts.

Unfortunately for him, his past self hadn’t been kind enough to pack his suitcase for him leaving Soul to sort through his drawers and toss clothes into his luggage. At least he’s consistent, though. His one bad habit had always been his last minute packing for a trip whether for a weekend getaway or a week at the lake house. It was one of the things Maka always bugged him to change when they were dating. Something she’s probably complaining about at the train station this very minute because even if they’re broke up, she still knows him. She knows him better than anyone else in his life -- including his family.

Leaving his apartment with his suitcase in tow, Soul silently hopes this next week doesn’t prove how true that is. He isn’t fully ready to let her go, and he doesn’t think remembering her quirks and habits is going to help push him in the right direction. Two months isn’t enough for him to forget those, he figures, like her consistent need to bring a book wherever she goes.

“I brought you coffee,” he says, waiting for her to glance up from her book.

The worn edges and broken blue spine tell him it’s her copy of Persuasion. It’s the same novel he’s seen her read about a dozen times on their old couch while he massaged her feet and watched reruns of The Twilight Zone. Or when they used to lay in bed together, him on her chest watching the city lights glitter and glow outside, and she’d rest the novel against him as she read. Familiar warmth spreads over his chest at the memories it brings up. Memories he’s forced himself to not think of for quite some time now. He’s quick to swallow it all down.

Slowly, she pulls her gaze away from the novel to meet his, her finger marking the sentence she left on, and briefly checks the clock hovering above the ticket booths.

"And you're only late by a minute or two. Congratulations. I think that’s a new world record," she says with a bite in her words.

"Yeah, yeah. Can we skip over the sass bit and jump to when you take this damn tray from me so I can get our tickets?" He shakes the drink tray once for emphasis.

She takes her sweet time sliding a bookmark between her pages and setting the novel to the side before taking the tray from him. He rolls his wrist to rid himself of the ache from carrying it for so long and unzips the front of his suitcase where he had stowed the tickets.

"Here," he says, handing her hers. "I got us our own compartment. I know you don't care to share with me, but it was cheaper like this."

Surprisingly, he isn't lying to cover up his own selfish desires.

"I suppose I'm fine sharing the same oxygen as you for four hours," she dryly comments.

Soul snorts. "As if I wanna be stuck with my ex for the next four hours with her glaring at me."

"I won't be glaring at you. I'll be ignoring you and reading my book."

"A book you've read about a hundred times since the day you were born."

"I've been reading it since high school, thank you very much. And at least it's more reading than you've done in your lifetime."

"Why read when there's probably a movie for it somewhere?"

"Lazy ass," she mutters under her breath.

His mouth twitches slightly as he turns around to face her, a snide remark on the tip of his tongue, but stops halfway when he realizes _why_ he wants to say it. It’s comical how easy their banter has revived itself as if they haven’t gone two months without speaking to each other. It’s comical how much Soul wants to give her a witty comeback for the sole purpose of making her blush and puff out her cheeks in the way he always loved so he can kiss it away afterward. Or say it purely to laugh and kiss her and whisper in her ear he’s joking to feel the shiver ride over her body like so many times before.

Swallowing the remark, his permanent scowl returns and he busies himself with grabbing his coffee.

"Think we better start heading to our platform," he mumbles.

He misses the way she blinks and opens her mouth slightly before ducking her head as she slips her book into her purse.

"Yeah. I think you're right," she whispers.

They both get their things ready, neither one saying another word, and head over to the ticket booth where they give the attendant their tickets before going to their platform.

* * *

Soul sits across from Maka on the train, his forehead resting on the wall beside him. Maka sits on the side by the window with her legs beneath her and her book on her thighs. His own legs are outstretched in front of him so that they take over the other half of her seat while he listens to music. He tries not to steal glances her way, but ends up wonderfully failing at it. Every now and then, he catches the intrusive thoughts sneak into his brain and whisper dumb, romantic things to his heart before he quickly pushes them back to the blackhole where they came from.

It isn't his fault, though.

Maka's still as lovely as ever when she reads. Her hair's tied up in a messy bun with a few strands dancing on the side of her face, fringe bangs a curtain over her emerald eyes. Sunlight dances around her, moving her shadows across the wall behind her. Somehow, it gives her an angelic glow with the way it bounces off her blonde hair, and his heart warms at the image. He notices the small smile tugging on his lips before it can show and covers his mouth with his hand to hide it.

He hates the gooey warmth that spreads across his chest and squeezes at his heart. He hates the tingly sensation from his fingertips as they crave the touch of her hair or her legs or any part of her really.

The emotions he goes through upon seeing her perched on her seat so delicately like a bird are lovely and hideous at the same time. Reminding himself that they aren't together anymore and will never be together again constrict and twist his heart until the point that he refuses to believe it. That portion of himself who still loves Maka refuses to let her go, and he hates it. He isn't sure how he's going to get through this next week without fucking it up in _some_ way.

What's worse is that he's the one who dug himself into this mess.

If he had only fessed up to his mom and told her that him and Maka broke up, he wouldn't be dragging said girl to a lake to spend time with his family. What makes it worse is that the only reason he hadn't was because he selfishly wanted to spend a little more time with her. Their break up had happened too quickly, their separation too soon, and he needed to find some sort of closure for their relationship.

Their break up hadn't been mutual, and it pains him that she was willing to let him go so easily.

Especially over something so stupid.

* * *

Maka both loves and loathes this trip she's being dragged to go on.

Of course, she could have easily told Soul to fuck off and think of an excuse to give his family, but she hadn't and she still hasn't figured out why not. Her final opportunity to twist the knife she had speared through his heart when they broke up was right in front of her, and she didn't take it.

Instead, she agreed because she likes his mom and Wes.

A part of her felt bad for deserting the family so quickly even though they weren't immediate kin to herself. She wanted to say goodbye to them in the best way possible, and this weekend is her chance to do so. They had met each other a few times during her relationship with Soul that it only feels right that she's going along with this ruse. Maybe this trip will help seal the gash over her heart that Soul's betrayal left her with and move on from because in truth, even if two months have passed, she does miss being with him which is what makes this whole thing worse.

She constantly catches her gaze drifting from the relationship that surrounds Anne and Captain Wentworth and their love story to the one sitting in front of her.

It's funny how it feels so natural sitting across from him in their little compartment; how it feels as if no time has passed since their argument and she kicked him out of the apartment. She isn't surprised in the slightest that he's listening to music -- no doubt one of the jazz musicians he enjoys. Or the way his fingers silently tap against his thigh absentmindedly to the tune of the song.

The atmosphere surrounding him is so relaxed and familiar that her deepest desires -- the ones buried within her -- slowly rise to the surface and wrap around her heart. Her mind strays away from the world of Anne Elliot and invents another where Soul rests his head in her lap and she soothingly runs her fingers through his hair while she reads. A world where they're together and content; a world that's familiar and comfortable. A world that doesn't exist at all in that moment because they aren't any of these things.

They're two exes who have separated on mutual grounds and are traveling to another city for the sole purpose of appeasing his family.

For the sole purpose of saving face.

That's what this trip is about. It isn't about rekindling her relationship with an old flame -- an old flame that's only been an old flame for two months.

This isn't a trip that's similar to her book or a cheesy romance film.

This is real life, and in real life, exe's aren't meant to stay exe's.

No matter how much her heart begs to differ.


	2. Touching You Again

Soul lugs his _and_ Maka's suitcase up the dirt path to where the family lake house is. The only reason he takes hers along with him is because he knows his mom, and he knows that if she sees him with just his luggage, he'll receive the talk of the century from her. She didn't raise her two sons to be misogynistic pigs who didn't do shit for the girls -- or person, in Wes' case -- they were dating which included carrying their belongings for them on trips.

No matter how much they complain about it.

"I still don't see why you had to take my suitcase," Maka hisses behind him. "I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own stuff. I don't need a man to do that."

He audibly groans. "Because Mom'll be pissed if she saw you doing that. She raised Wes and me to be gentlemen, you know."

She dryly laughs. "You? A gentleman? That's an oxymoron right there."

"Maka," he growls over his shoulder. "Remember we're supposed to be to be dating this week, please."

Raising her forefinger to him, she opens her mouth to comment, but promptly closes it, folding her arms in front of her chest and glaring to the side. Soul waits for her to say what she wanted to, but when it never comes, he turns back to the house and continues on the trek.

When they arrive at the house, he drops their luggage on the front porch and wipes the bit of sweat that sparkles on his forehead. He looks over at the spot that they usually park their vehicles to see his mom's SUV there but no one else's. His gran most likely rode up with his mom, his dad's probably going to arrive later that night, and Wes... Wes'll most likely arrive fashionably late like he always does.

Unless, that is, their mom threatened him to be there for lunch the same way she had done with Soul.

"Soul," comes a soft, cheerful voice. "It's so good to see you again."

His mom tugs him down around the neck in a hug before he can process what's happening and kisses the spot right in front of his ear. He blanches in response which makes her laugh; a light, carefree laugh that sounds like a faeries bell.

"It's good to see you too, Mom," he says, returning the hug.

Pulling out of the hug, she holds him at arm's length to get a better look at him.

Snorting, he says, "You act like you haven't seen me in ten years."

"Might as well have been. You don't call or text me for weeks on end. I don't know anything that's going on in your life. You're practically a stranger."

"Maybe that's what I wanna be: a stranger."

"Hush," she says with a playful slap to his shoulder.

Glancing behind Soul, she smiles at Maka and steps forward to give her a hug as well. Except, lucky for Maka, his mom stands at her same height so there's no need to force her down to her level.

"And Maka," Evelyn says, a slight twinkle in her voice at his ex-girlfriend's name. "It's so good to see you as well. How have you been? Hope my son's been taking good care of you."

Maka meets his his, her expression angry and annoyed at him, and he presses his hands together in prayer and asks her to please go with it. She mouths ' _You owe me_ ' before digging up one of her sweetest smiles to direct it toward his mom.

"I've been great. How are you? And don't worry, your son's been treating me well, but I find I take care of him more than he does for me."

Evelyn nods. "If he's anything like his brother, I understand. That boy calls me anytime he so much as coughs and asks for me to come take care of him."

"Must run in the family."

"I don't cry to you when I'm sick," Soul directs to Maka, but his comment goes unnoticed.

"Maybe being dramatic just runs in the family," Evelyn shrugs. "Well, come in. Lunch is almost ready, and I'm sure you two are starving from your trip up here. Soul, bring in the luggage so I can show the both of you where you'll be staying this week."

Groaning, Soul grabs the handles of their suitcases and drags them inside saying, "I'm not dramatic."

Over her shoulder, Maka says, "Are you sure about that?"

"I'm not as dramatic as some people I know," he says, low enough for his mom to not hear but loud enough so that Maka does.

"My suitcase has wheels, by the way."

Soul glances down to see that Maka's right. Unlike himself, she had chosen to bring an actual suitcase rather than a duffel bag. How he hadn't noticed that before is beyond him, but he makes quick haste to hide his mistake.

"Also," Maka starts when he stands up straight, "I think you and I need to talk about this little... arrangement some more. Now that we're here, I kinda want to talk about what our plan is for this week and everything."

He isn't completely sure why, but something about her tells him she's nervous and worried about this upcoming week. Maybe it's because she saw his mom for the first time in over a year or the general atmosphere of being at the lake house instead of her apartment, but either way he nods in agreement.

"Yeah. Sure. I'll tell my mom we wanna take some time to get settled before lunch." Soul nudges his shoulder against hers to push her toward the front door. "Come on. We don't wanna keep her waiting."

They follow his mom around the lake house which is a decent size for his family. The living room is large and expansive, connecting to the dining room and kitchen with a bathroom off to the side that's meant for any guests. There's also another guest bedroom on the first floor off to the side which is designated for his grandma since she's old and the stairs aren't good for her knees. Upstairs, there's three separate bedrooms, each with their own bathrooms; two of the bedrooms are single beds and the third has twin beds in it.

Before the trip, Soul had assumed Maka would be given the room with a single bed while him and Wes took the one with twin beds since his mom wouldn't want him and Maka doing any _hanky panky_ (her words, not his) in the bed.

Except, when they're standing in front of the Queen sized bed, he realizes how wrong he was.

"You two will be sharing this room," his mom says with a smile.

Soul blinks before asking, "What?"

Evelyn looks at him as if he's a small child who's learning the alphabet for the first time. "This will be where you and Maka are staying for the week."

"Yeah, but what about the spare twin bed? I can stay in there with Wes."

"Your dad and I are going to be sleeping in that room," Evelyn says, a small warning in her blue eyes that tells him he shouldn't question her about that.

"What about Wes?" he asks instead of the obvious elephant one in the room.

"He gets the other master bedroom."

"Okay, but I thought you didn't want Maka and I sharing a room. Ever," he pushes more.

His mom sighs and purses her lips, the irritation evident on her face, but it's Maka who speaks next.

"Soul, it's okay. You and I can share a bed." Lower, she says, "Your mom isn't an idiot. She knows you and I live together in a one bedroom apartment. She knows we share a bed there."

He glances over at his mom who only smiles and shrugs. His cheeks warm with embarrassment at the thought of her knowing that he isn't a virgin, and that the girl he first had sex with is standing right there. The thought of her also _thinking_ and _planning_ that they might have sex while on this trip calls for him to cringe as well as think of every possible way to make her believe that that isn't happening. But even when ideas start to form in his head of ways to do so, he knows the battle is futile.

Maka's right. His mom isn't an idiot.

"Did you two want to take some time to get settled or eat lunch now?" Evelyn asks, changing the subject away from beds and _sex_.

"Get settled," Soul and Maka say in unison.

Her voice unsettlingly rises on the word, and his mom looks at her confused for a brief moment but doesn't push for an explanation.

“Okay. Then you two take your time, and when Wes and Gran get here, we’ll eat.” Evelyn smiles at both of them before heading back to the stairs.

“Guess Gran didn’t come up here with Mom,” Soul mutters, more to himself than Maka.

“Yeah, that’s good to know,” Maka waves off.

She harshly shoves him into the bedroom, the wheels of her suitcase scraping against the wood floor, and shuts the door behind them. Soul stares, dumbfounded, as Maka searches the room like a detective. He thinks about questioning her weird behavior, but decides not to. Maka’s on some sort of indiscernible mission, opening everything from the drawers of the nightstand to the door leading to the private bathroom, and when she gets like that, it’s best not to interrupt her. Unless he _wants_ to be on the receiving end of one of her infamous glares.

Which, apparently, he does.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

As predicted, she throws him a fiery emerald glare.

“I’m looking at where I’ll be staying for the next week,” she says.

Her hard exterior seems to diminish, though, when she folds her arms and hunches over. He’s reminded of a girl he knows very well; a girl who’s lost and confused and doesn’t know what to do about her future. He remembers the girl he stayed up with when she had bad anxiety over graduate programs and being accepted and what to do if she didn’t get in. She’s lost and worried about their situation, he determines. They aren’t at her apartment or on the train where spending time with her ex-boyfriend is a merely a thought; they’re here and it’s a very real thought being thrust against them.

All he wants to do his hug her to him, but he doesn’t.

No matter how much his hand and chest crave to do so.

* * *

She doesn’t know where her confidence and strong-mindedness disappeared to between the time they left the taxi to now, but it’s gone.

Simply, gone.

Just like that.

And she hates it.

All she wants to do is crawl into the bed and get into the fetal position while Soul hugs himself to her. She wants to feel the warmth of his body pressed against hers, his hands soothingly combing through her hair while he kisses her neck. What she wants his for him to comfort her and tell her everything will be fine by the end of the week, but she knows he can’t because he isn’t her boyfriend in every sense of the word which kills her. Kills her because she doesn’t want to pretend to still be together; she wants to actually be together.

If only he weren’t such an idiot who ruined a good things like her papa.

“You okay?” Soul asks, his tone soft and caring. It almost breaks her.

 _Almost_.

Sighing, she drops her arms and stares at him, mustering every ounce of courage she has left. She refuses to let things get to her this week about them, her emotions toward him, and the fact that they’ll be a _couple_ again.

“I’m fine,” she tells him. “I think we should set a few more rules for this week.”

His brows knit together, face twists in confusion, but he leaves whatever question crossed his mind unasked which only peaks Maka’s curiosity. Like him, though, she doesn’t ask.

“Alright,” he says, dropping his arms to his side.

“First, the bed situation.” Maka’s gaze drops to the furniture in question and sighs. “I don’t exactly feel comfortable sleeping in the same bed with you, but I also don’t want to kick you--”

“We can sleep under different covers,” he suggests, cutting off her sentence.

Taking a step forward, Maka pulls back the comforter on the bed to find a regular sheet tucked beneath it and nods. “I’ll take the comforter, and you take the sheet? Since you’re naturally warmer than me and all.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Okay.” She puts the comforter back to how it was before and continues. “And what about the bathroom? Did you wanna take turns showering?”

Soul smirks. “Are you suggesting we shower together?”

Maka pales at the proposal and hates how Soul’s light laugh warms her heart.

“I’m joking, Maka. How do you think we’d handle the shower situation? We’ll take turns like anyone else… Like we did when we were together?”

The warmth travels up her chest and neck to rest on her cheeks where it burns her entire face. She doesn’t doubt that her skin is tinted an annoying shade of red that gives away her embarrassment that she hadn’t realized that in the first place. Of course they’ll take turns. It isn’t like they showered at the same time when they were together; save for the few odd times that they felt adventurous and horny that is. That didn’t apply to this situation, though.

“Right. Of course. That’s logical, I guess.” Maka squirms where she stands and switches her weight before speaking again. “So what exactly is our plan for this week? With us being together and fooling your family and… our fight at the end of all this.”

“Guess we do things like we did before we broke up,” he shrugs.

His gaze drops from hers, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and she senses that he forgot how well she knows his tells. There’s something he’s hiding from her -- something that’s making him nervous -- and the fighter in her wants to know what it is. The part of her that is desperate to be with him again wants to know. But she buries that desire deep within her and locks it away. There won’t be any reminiscing on this trip; she can promise herself that much.

“And then the day before we leave, we argue about something that’ll let my family know we’re gonna break up. Then you get to say a proper goodbye to them before we go our separate ways, and I tell them we split.”

Her heart twists at the last portion of his sentence, but she nods.

“That sounds good to me.” There’s a brief pause between them before she speaks again. “Now that that’s settled, you wanna go down for lunch?”

He responds with a curt nod. Maka walks over to the bedroom door, and her hand barely wraps around the doorknob before he draws her attention back to him.

“Maka.” Soul’s tone is soft and caring, a replica of the same one that used to put butterflies in her stomach and set her heart to soar when he kissed her. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. Just making sure.”

Without saying anything more, Maka exits the room with Soul following after her.

* * *

The thing about Soul is that he _knows_ Maka better than she thinks he does. They dated each other for three years in college and lived together for another three years afterwards, and in that time he learned so much more about her than he bargained for.

He knows that she prefers tea over coffee but won’t object to a cup in the morning so long as it’s practically coated in sugar. He knows that she’s most comfortable when it rains and likes dozing off in bed cuddled up with him (soon to be someone else when she dates again). He also knows that she’ll stay up all night reading a book if he doesn’t bribe her to go to sleep (which, again, will more than likely be someone else in the future. A thought that pains him to think about).

More importantly, though, he knows when she isn’t _okay_ , and she definitely was not okay when they first stepped in the bedroom.

But, Soul doesn't push or prod her until she confesses because it isn't his place to do so anymore.

No matter how much he wants to.

All he can do is be there for her when she finally breaks.

They sit by each other for lunch on his mother’s request -- something he doesn’t miss annoys Maka -- while his mom sits at the head of the table. In front of him and Maka, are his gran and Wes who had arrived about twenty minutes after they did. Their arrival was marked with the sound of his gran blubbering on about weak millennials who didn’t know what hard work was due to a poor Wes complaining about the trek up there. She, like his mom, was happy to see Maka again. It had only been six months since Maka had last been to a family get-together, so his family’s joy at seeing her again isn’t surprising.

What does surprise him is the genuine excitement on Maka’s face.

Soul can’t remember the last time she laughed or smiled so often. Especially at Wes’ jokes which is saying something considering Wes’ jokes are about as humorous as Soul’s which are sub par at best. He catches himself smiling and sneaking side glances at his ex-girlfriend more than anything. The brightness of her eyes endearing and beautiful, the wrinkle of her nose insanely adorable, and the curve of her mouth kissable.

Maybe he’s a secret hopeless romantic, but he feels himself falling harder in love with Maka than ever before. It worries him because that isn’t how this week will end.

“It’s good to have everyone here,” his mom says. She reaches over and rests her hand on Maka’s and gives it a gentle squeeze. “And thank you for coming as well, Maka. I don’t think I’ve seen Soul smile this much in years.”

He groans. “Mom, can you not?”

The burning sensation on his cheeks, though, gives away his embarrassment.

“It’s true,” Wes says, taking a drink of his water. “Usually you’re more sour-faced and grouchy when I tell a joke.”

His brother waggles his brows at him, causing him to roll his eyes. “That’s ‘cause your jokes suck.”

“Aw, come on, little brother. They’re not that bad, are they? Not when you have such a beautiful girl right next to you?”

“Wes.”

Next to him, Maka squeaks, and he doesn’t doubt that her cheeks turn a lovely shade of red at his brother’s comment.

“Um, thank you,” Maka says, her voice wavering a little as she hides behind her bangs and scoots her veggies around on her plate.

“Don’t mind Wes, deary,” his gran says. “He’s naturally a charmer, but he doesn’t mean any harm by it. Serial flirter is what I call him. He even goes around flirting with the old farts back at the retirement home, but it brings a smile to their faces to have such a young, handsome man wooing them again.”

“Gran, you know you’re part of those old farts, right?” Wes asks, a small grin on his face.

“Hush, you. I don’t need any of your unnecessary comments now.” His gran glares at Wes over her glasses before adding, “Besides, I’m not that old. I beat you comin’ up here, didn’t I?”

“That’s ‘cause you whacked me in the knee with your cane.”

“Don't hate the player, hate the game,” Gran says with a wink and a smile.

Wes rests his chin in his hand and pouts, grumbling under his breath as he does so, while Soul, his mom, and Maka laugh at the pair.

It's warm and inviting to be like this again. Soul doesn't remember the last time his family congregated like this and genuinely laughed nor does he recall when the table conversation was so healthy. Somehow any time the Evans family ever had a meal together, it always found a way of spiraling into an argument and someone (usually Soul) excusing themselves and sulking in their room. Granted, those times had more to do with the fact that Soul's father was present to remind him how much of a disgrace he is to the Evans family name.

But it's not here at the cabin. Something Soul's grateful for.

No. In his father's place is Maka whose smile and crinkled eyes sets his heart to swell and his stomach to knot. He notes how comfortable and smooth her interactions are with his family, and he can't help but to think how well she fits in with them. She's like the missing puzzle piece they've been searching for since the beginning; finding pieces that were either cut wrong or didn't finish the picture on their journey.

Then again, that's who Maka's always been. The glue that keeps a tight knit group together, the one who encourages others to join them, and gives her friends an extra boost of confidence when they need it the most. She's sunshine and dandelions in an open field; she's the rainbow when clouds are grey. It's why he fell in love with her -- why he still loves her.

Green eyes flash his way, and he realizes he's been staring at Maka.

Soul drops his gaze down to his empty bowl of strawberry salad and rubs his thumb along the porcelain side. His cheeks burn at being caught. They're broken up. Last he checked, exe's didn't gaze at each other like adoring puppies waiting on their every whim.

Maka's hand moves over the space between them, hovering for a brief moment, before falling back in her lap. He'd be lying if he said there wasn't a small flicker of hope that she'd touch him in that caring way of hers like she used to do.

"Sorry," he grunts, low enough for only Maka to hear. "Didn't mean to stare."

"It's fine," she says, her tone surprisingly soft and not at all angry like he imagined. "But don't let it happen again unless it's part of this act."

The corner of his mouth twitches.

 _There's his ex-girlfriend_ , he thinks.

"What are you two whispering about over there?" Wes asks.

Raising his gaze to his brother's, Soul catches the shit-eating grin Wes gives him before he takes a drink of his water. The grin that knows too much and too little at the same time.

"None of your business," Soul tells him. "It's couple things."

"Looked a little too comfortable to be suited for a conversation at the table," Wes says, wagging his eyebrows, and Soul scoffs.

"God, Wes. Do you have to do that at the table? In front of Gran?"

"Soul, dear, when you get to be my age, you don't care if your grandsons talk about sex over lunch."

Next to him, Maka's knee bangs against the underside of the table and she nearly spits out her water. Her cheeks are tinted an endearing rose color as she says, "What?!"

"We weren't talking about that," Soul growls, directing it toward his brother. "We were talking about something else. Get your damn head out of the gutter."

"Soul," comes his mom's sharp tone. "Language."

"But he--"

"Wes, stop teasing your brother and Maka about what they do in the privacy of their own home. This is a family getaway, and I won't have you two at each others throats because of that." His mom scoots back in her chair, stands, and straightens out her skirt before smiling at Maka. "Would you like a tour of the backyard and to see the lake?"

"Um, sure," Maka says, slightly bewildered. "I can help clean first--"

"No need," his mom waves. "Soul and Wes can take care of that. Us girls can go out for a nice walk. Come along. You're invited too, Rose."

Without another word, the ladies head outside.

"You're taking the pans," Wes says, standing from his own chair and gathering the dirty dishes. With a wink, he adds, "I know how much you love doing them."

Soul only rolls his eyes and follows his brother to the kitchen.

They start washing the dishes in the double basin sink, one brother working in either side, bumping elbows every five seconds. By the tenth time it happens, Soul finally gets tired of it and offers to dry while Wes cleans the dishes; his brother agrees only under the condition that Soul finishes the pots and pans on his own. After a brief moment of bickering about Wes' need to get out of the difficult parts of the task, they finally settle on an agreement (one that still ends with Soul cleaning pots and pans alone) and work in compatible silence for about ten minutes.

"So, you and Maka doing alright?" Wes asks.

Wiping off invisible water a second or two longer than necessary, Soul contemplates what to confess to his brother. He can't tell him about their break up even if his brother is good at keeping secrets; the risk of him babbling is too high for comfort. But he also doesn't want to completely lie to his brother. Wes' lie detector rivals the one their mom's, and hers is good enough to solve cases on The First 48.

With that in mind, Soul decides on a good medium between their break-up and why they broke up. A half truth, half lie.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "It's good, but she's kinda pissed at me right now."

"Is that why you two were whispering at lunch?"

"Kinda."

His brother nods. "What's she pissed about?"

"That's the thing. She's being her usual stubborn self and expects me to figure out what I did wrong, but I don't know what that is." Soul sets a bowl in the rack a little too hard. "If I did, I wouldn't apologized for it."

"How long has she been mad at you?"

"A month."

"A month? And you still haven't figured it out? Wait. Scratch that. And she's still with you?"

Soul's chest constricts, but he reminds himself that Wes doesn't know about their break-up.

"Yeah," he says, his voice wavering the slightest. "Which I guess means it isn't too serious."

Wes nods again and falls silent.

The only sound in the kitchen comes from the dishes as they hit the silver basin and birds chirping outside the window. In the distance, Soul hears his mom's voice followed by Maka's and his gran's. He feels the edge of his mouth pull up into a smile of its own accord, and the familiar warmth spread over his heart at the idea of her getting along so well with his family.

It's quickly followed with the gut-twisting reminder that she'll never truly be _part_ of his family.

"Well, if you want my opinion on this," Wes starts, and Soul bites down on the retort where he tells him he doesn't give two shits, "I'd have to say that she must really love you and that she isn't really mad considering she's still with you."

He’s kind of glad he didn't give his usual snide comment.

"Thanks," Soul says.

"But anyone can see she loves you with the looks she's been giving you since I got here," Wes snorts.

Wes' comment comes surprisingly, and Soul nearly elbows a clean glass off the counter. Only barely catching it half-way.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Dude, don't tell me you didn't notice?"

Soul stares at him blankly because yes, he did in fact not notice.

"God, you're so oblivious! I'm surprised you even _have_ a girlfriend." Wes shakes his head and smiles. "The girl spent half of lunch watching you with stars in her eyes. She's so gone for you, you could probably murder an entire town and she'd still be with you."

He doesn't comment; only nods. Because, really, Soul isn't sure what to say to that.

On the one hand, he's touched by his brother's words and a wave of calm washes over him, but on the other hand, he knows the truth of the matter is that they are broken up. Maka doesn't love him like she once did; she despises him now. For what, he can't say. She barely gave him a reason for ending their relationship and pushing him out of their -- her -- apartment. The only thing he knows for certain is their break-up dealt with him being exactly like her papa and every other man in the world.

Anything else is a mystery to him.

"How are things in your love life?" Soul asks, wanting nothing more than to draw the conversation away from him and Maka for fear that he'd confide in his brother.

* * *

“This is where we’ll be having our barbecue courtesy of the boys tonight,” Evelyn says, waving her hand over the patio furniture like a girl on the Price Is Right. “It’s a family tradition. Then this path here leads down to the lake which is beautiful. You’re going to fall in love with it, Maka. Rose, would you like me to help you down?”

“I'm not that old yet, Evie. I can handle the walk down myself.”

Evelyn smiles, and Maka feels her own mouth reflect it. She forgot how wonderful and easy it is to speak with Soul’s mom and gran as if she were always part of their family. A thought that twists her heart slightly.

They make their way down the winding dirt path, long grass blades on either side of them that Maka brushes her hand against while admiring her surroundings. The lake house is serene and calming; the sound of birds chirping and singing in the distance, butterflies fluttering over the field and stopping at a flower occasionally, and a small bee buzzing somewhere near them. Maka had never been to the lake house before while her and Soul were dating. He had only gone once or twice during that time, telling her it isn't anything special, and she guesses he's right for someone who came their whole life.

But for her, it is something.

It's something to hold onto one last time, to enjoy, and pretend like nothing happened between her and Soul. It's a chance to say goodbye to his family -- a family that has meant a lot to her in the last six years. Unlike her own family, Soul’s isn't broken up or shattered because of his dad’s infidelity or lack of love for his wife. An aspect she's always been jealous of, but it also gives her hope that maybe someday she too can find love and happiness.

Just not with Soul.

“So, Maka,” comes Evelyn’s voice, startling Maka from her musings, “are you excited to spend time with us his week? I know it might not have been your first choice.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t mind coming up here. I didn't really have any plans for this week so it's really nice to come out here and be away from the city for a bit. Thank you for inviting me.”

“We’re happy you came.” Evelyn places her hand on Maka’s arm and squeezes. “Really, we are. Soul always looks so grumpy when he comes so I'm sure with you here he'll be happier.”

“Ah, yeah,” Maka says, a tinge of guilt twisting in her heart at Evelyn’s naivety. “I remember when he came up here alone, he always dreaded it. I can’t count the times he used to pretend a stomach flu so I would tell him he wasn’t fit to come.”

Evelyn laughs. “I wouldn’t imagine it’s an easy task getting my son to come up here, but thank you for always pushing him.”

“No problem,” Maka smiles. “And despite what he says, Soul does enjoy seeing his family again.”

She doesn’t respond save for a gentle smile and sparkling eyes that let Maka know Evelyn’s touched by her reassurance.

“Would you look at that view?” Gran says, trailing behind them as she reaches the edge of the lake. “This was always my favorite part about coming out here as a girl. You don't see something like this living in the city all your life.”

Maka turns her attention to the scenery and finds it difficult to argue with the woman. Everything about the place -- from the steep mountains reaching out to the sky to the deep green bundles of trees covering its landscape to the beauty of the lake itself -- it's all breath-takingly beautiful. The wide, open space of the land gives her a sense of freedom she doesn't experience in the city. It always felt cramped and claustrophobic back at home. There's never time for her to breathe and take a moment to reflect; she gets hung up on the hustle and bustle of the city than she does relaxing at home.

Out by the lake, however, Maka finally feels like she can _breathe_ and let her thoughts escape from her which is a godsend.

“It's beautiful,” Maka says mostly to herself.

“Wait until you see it at night,” Evelyn says, leaning in close to Maka. “I bet you never get to see the stars back at home.”

“You mean there's actually something in the sky at night?” Maka jokes.

Rose comes up behind Maka and squeezes her elbow, prompting Maka to glance down at the elderly woman.

“You're not gonna want to leave this place,” she says. “I can see it already. City girl like yourself is gonna fall in love with this old country life. We’ll be sure Soul brings you out here every year if that happens.”

All Maka can do is smile and nod as guilt twists her heart and gut at the knowledge of these two women planning her future without knowing the truth. She pulls her attention back to the lake, her vision blurring around the sunlight shimmering off the surface, and she waits for the pain to subside. When it doesn’t, she takes a deep breath in and reassures herself everything will be okay in the end. Her and Soul are broken up; there’s nothing she can do to change that. His family will be hurt she won’t be in their lives anymore (at least, she hopes they care enough to feel pain), but in the end, everything will be okay.

She’ll use this week to savor the warm feelings of being around a full, complete, happy family that isn’t broken and remember what it feels like to be with people she loves. She’ll give them a proper a send off, memories that will stay with them forever, and everything will be okay.

At least, in a perfect world, she hopes it’ll happen.

* * *

“Think you outta take those patties off the grill unless you want ‘em to be really burnt,” Wes tells Soul. “If that's the case, I think I'll make my own burger and send you to a therapist to discuss how weird your tastebuds are.”

“That's not why you go to a therapist,” Soul grumbles as he takes his _perfect_ , medium-well done patties off the grill. “And they're not burnt. I know how to make a damn good burger, thank you.”

“Ha. I call bullshit.” Wes glances over his shoulder to where Maka sits on the patio loveseat, the corner of his mouth tucked away in a smirk. “‘ey, Maka. What's your _honest_ opinion of my bro’s burgers? They're shit, right?”

Maka's gaze slowly pulls away from the book she's reading to meet Wes’. “Huh?”

“Soul’s burgers. They're shit, right? ‘Cause he overcooks ‘em.”

Soul expects Maka to ridicule his cooking skills by concealing it behind light teasing or flat out agreeing with his brother. He doesn’t expect her to be truthful and compliment him, though.

“His burgers are actually really good. They’re the only ones I’ll eat because I’m spoiled by them,” she says.

Glancing over his shoulder, Soul notes the light blush blooming over her cheeks, and deciphers she said it to keep their rouse realistic. She would never compliment him under normal circumstances considering she hates his guts and broke up with him for a very valid reason, though, he isn’t sure what that reason is. A very Maka thing to do.

“Maka,” Wes says, putting his hand over his heart and falling to the ground like a wounded warrior in battle. Soul rolls his eyes and sighs at his brother’s dramatic antics. “You hurt me. You’re supposed to be on my side here.”

“Stop being a drama king and get up,” Soul says giving him a light kick. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“I supposed I’ll be the one to starve to death.” Wes places his arm over his forehead and slowly drops further to the ground. “Please remember me as the fantastic, young musician I am and put a statue of my likeness in town for all to remember me. And be sure you mention all my great accomplishments like climbing the Mount Everest and wrestling a bear once.”

“God, you’re pathetic,” Soul mutters under his breath.

Behind them, he hears Maka stifle a giggle and he throws her a quick glance to see the genuine merriment etched on her face. The slight crinkle in the corner of her eyes, her scrunched up nose, the beautiful smile lighting up her face; things that were once reserved for him. Bile and jealous rises up in his throat. He remembers a time when he would shower her face in kisses and tickle her sides on their couch while she pleaded for him to stop, her face lighting up for him rather than someone else, and he hates it. Leaning down, he picks Wes up by the scruff of his shirt.

“Stop being dramatic,” Soul repeats, “and help me finish these damn burgers.”

“Can you say please, at least?” Wes chides, dusting himself and giving Soul a stern look.

“ _Please_.”

“Thank you,” Wes says as he turns back to the barbecue pit and prepares the burgers Soul finished during his moment.

Soul merely rolls his eyes as he finishes off the last burger and sets it on a plate. He prepares this burger himself since it's for Maka, and he remembers she likes hers done a specific way. She doesn't like pickles, but loves tomatoes and lettuce on it; she can't stand the taste of ketchup even though it's se from tomatoes and prefers honest mustard instead. The finishing touch is a sprinkle of creole seasoning over her fries because unlike himself, Maka can handle spices.

“Here you go,” Soul says, putting her plate in front of her. She’s still reading her book, using the light from the lamp sitting in the middle of the table as her guide. The illumination is poor, and he scowls. “Don't read in the dim lighting. You're gonna strain your eyes.”

She puts her finger over a paragraph and glares at him as he sits beside her. “Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. It isn't even that dim.”

Wes puts down two plates across from them as his Gran and Mom head over, and Soul quickly says, “I'm your boyfriend. It's my job to worry.”

Maka opens her mouth as if to say something more, but a quick glance at their new company has her thinking better of it. Soul doesn't miss the scowl or the glare she gives him, though. She puts her book down on the between them before turning to her plate. He sees her eyes widen slightly at the sight of the seasoning over her fries, and he feels a little too proud he managed to make her happy on this trip without being fake.

“Where'd you get the seasoning?” she asks.

Soul shrugs. “Brought with me since I know you like it.”

“Oh. Thank you for thinking about me,” she says.

His heart stops as her hand cups one cheek and her lips touch the other. It's quick and doesn't last for more than a second, but his face still manages to burn as a blush washes over him. He almost forgets how to breath and chokes on the fry he had put in his mouth a moment before. Her hand slapping his back doesn't help matters. Out of everything he's missed these last two months, her touch is high on the list.

“It's just a kiss, Soul,” Wes says with a wave of his hand. “There's no reason to get choked up about it. Ha, get it?”

Their mother and grandmother both give his brother chuckles, but all Soul can manage is a glare on she manages to guide the fry down his throat.

“That's not funny,” Soul says.

“I thought it was hilarious,” Wes says with a smirk as he chuckles to himself. “God, I'm funny.”

“Drink some water, Soul,” Evelyn says, nudging a bottle toward him. “Your face is almost as red as your eyes.”

It's probably due to a combination of his choking and his blush, but he doesn't share this information with her. Instead, he takes a sip of the water and waits for himself to calm down a bit before speaking again.

“Thanks, Mom,” he says, setting the water down.

“You're welcome. These burgers are really good. You and Wes did a really good job on them.”

“Yeah, but aren't they a little too overlooked?” Wes says, and Soul growls at him to not start an argument over his burgers. Again. “Chill, baby brother. I'm just trying to have a civilized conversation here.

Evelyn blinks at them, her head slightly cocked to the side, but smiles. “I don’t know what you two were arguing about earlier, and I’d rather we not fight at the dinner table. We have a guess.” She gestures to Maka. “We wouldn’t want to scare Maka away so soon, would we?”

Gran snorts beside her. “I think it's best if she saw the family she could be marrying into in the future and know ahead of time before it's too late to bail.”

“Gran!” Soul splutters while Wes gives him a devilish smile and Maka pinks beside him. “That's not good dinner talk.”

“‘Course it is,” the elderly woman waves off. “What else are we going to talk about? Your brother's latest concert?”

“Yeah, little brother. Why would anyone want to talk about me when we have such a lovely couple right here?”

“I thought you liked talking about yourself,” Soul mutters. “Isn't that why you never shut up?”

“You make me sound self-centered,” Wes smirks over the rim of his drink. “So how many kids are you two planning to have?”

“Wes!” Soul growls. He spares a glance in Maka's direction to see her staring down at her food, her cheeks a bright red that can rival the shade of his irises. “Mom, can you please tell Wes to stop being a dick?”

“Language,” Evelyn chides. “I raised you better than that.”

“But Wes--”

“And Wesley Theodore Evans, stop trying to embarrass your brother and Maka. We’re here to have a nice family vacation together, and I won't have you scaring away Maka. They aren't even engaged.”

 _We aren't even together_ , Soul thinks.

“Guess that means I'll have to behave myself,” Gran says, and his mom gives her a pleasing look. “I thought old people are supposed to get a pass on these sorts of things.”

“They do when they aren't in the presence of someone who likes to push buttons.” His mom glances over at Wes who’s pouting while chewing his burger. “So, Maka, Soul tells me you graduated top in your class from Princeton? A master's degree in English, correct?”

A quiet sigh of relief comes from him at the change of topics. He's more than grateful for his mother’s clever way of steering the conversation toward more safer grounds and keeping the focus on Maka and her studies. She asks his not-girlfriend about her life in college, what her professors were like, and keeps it light and casual. Soul notices Wes and Gran even nod their approval, and he smiles beside himself. Pride bubbles up in his chest as Maka indulged them in her school work and her research experience.

It isn't until she pinches his side Soul realizes he's been staring at her with that dopey look in his face. The one he used to reserve for the nights she stayed up late in the apartment going over mountains and mountains of books. Back when she accepted his cup of tea without hesitation and a kiss.

“Sorry,” he whispers loud enough for only her to hear.

They all go to their respective rooms, bidding each other goodnight, and dread settles in Soul’s stomach the moment his and Maka’s door closes. It's like the romance candle has been blown out the moment they step inside. Maka scurries around her belongs grabbing her things in her arms without a second look at him. All he can do is stand to the stand with his hands in his pockets and watches.

“Slow down there, Speedy Gonzalez. Someone’s gonna think you can’t stand to see me with how fast you’re going,” he bitterly says.

Sharp green eyes turn on him, and he winces. Thankfully her voice doesn’t reflect the anger brewing beneath her because he might consider burying him in the blankets until he suffocates if it did.

“I’m sure they’ll understand when they know our particular situation.”

“You keep bringing that up, but you can leave if you want.” Soul gestures to the door. “I’ll tell my mom you had some emergency you had to get to and cover your ass.”

She seems to consider it for a moment, but pulls her belongings closer to her chest. “And what about the break-up plan? How would you explain that without a fight?”

He shrugs. “Tell them the truth.”

Maka bites her lip.

For a brief moment, her walls drop and she reminds him of the girl who cried herself to sleep the night of her graduation from Princeton. The night when the only thing that came in the mail was a ring from Spirit who had told her his wife wasn’t coming back because she sent it to him and now he was sending it to his daughter because he felt she deserved to have it. She had admired the woman, loved her with all her heart, and had spent countless nights trying to impress a woman who never returned.

But the moment disappears, and in its wake is Maka’s pure, unadulterated hatred.

“I’m fine staying. I can handle pretending to still be with you,” she mutters. “So long as you don’t try anything funny when I’m sleeping.”

Soul puts his hands up. “I like still having a functional dick. Thanks.”

“I’m sure you do,” she says before disappearing into the bathroom before he can ask what she means.

* * *

Maka grips the sink in the bathroom and calms her breathing as she stares at her reflection. She hates being here with Soul, pretending to still be in love with him when she really is still in love with him. Pretending they’re still together when all she wants is to pretend their break-up never happened. It’s pure torture the storm raging inside of her. The storm that tells her to kiss with no regard to what happened in the past, but reminds her of what had happened for her to end things with Soul.

She hates the way her heart skips a beat each time he talks, each time someone brings up their relationship. She hates how her fingers tingle to run themselves through his hair and her mouth craves to gently kiss the side of his jaw. She hates how she wants him to kiss her unbidden, touch the small of her back, and smile at her when she tells a joke. She hates all of the emotions wracking her body, and it’s only day one.

It’s going to be a long week, that’s for sure, but she can get through it.

Her name isn’t Maka Fucking Albarn for nothing. She’s a smart girl who knows how to play the game and pretend to smile when things aren’t so good for her. She had seen her mama do it for eleven years when they went to Christmas parties. Saw the woman nod and smile sweetly in conversation with her friends even when she damn well knew her husband was off making out with some hussey. Maka had learned from the best how to fake it till she made it, and she was determined to do so this week.

Even if it means enduring such torture as a heart still in love with her ex.

Sighing, Maka strips herself of her day clothes and puts on the pajamas she had packed for the trip which consists of an old shirt she can’t remember where she found and shorts with pugs printed over them. It isn’t the sexiest of attires, but it’s decent, home. And it’s not like she’s trying to impress Soul either. The last thing she needs is for him to oogle her the way he used to.

When she emerges from the bathroom, Soul is sitting with his back to her.

“The bathroom’s all yours,” she tells him.

“Fucking finally,” he grumbles. “It took you--”

His pause draws Maka’s attention toward him, and she quirks eyebrow at his cheeky smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” he supplies before grinning wider. “You know that’s my shirt, right?”

“It’s not your shirt. This is--”

It’s her turn to pause as she glances down at her attire and confirms it is indeed his shirt. How she hadn’t realized she still had his old orange Piano Man shirt, she has no clue, but if she had known, she guarantees she wouldn’t have brought it. Her face burns when he gives a hearty laugh and her arms fly up to cover the text across her chest with a pout.

“I didn’t realize it,” she mutters.

“So you break up with me and steal my clothes. Didn’t expect that from you,” he says.

There’s a bite of bitterness at the mention of their parting, but it’s hidden beneath a layer of humor. If she didn’t know him better, she wouldn’t have noticed it. She almost wishes she didn’t. Her heart flutters when he laughs again and passes behind her, rustling her hair affectionately as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she tells him, swatting his hand away. “And don’t do that. You’re gonna ruin my bun.”

“Like it matters. You’re going to bed, not out to the club, Maka.”

“Still it doesn’t--Just go get dressed for bed, Soul.” She shrieks and throws one of the pillows at the door when he gives another laugh. “It’s not funny!”

She huffs and crosses her arms in front of her, glaring at the bed in hopes it’ll burst into flames so she can sleep on the couch or on the spare bed in Evelyn’s room. Or maybe she’ll leave that bed for Soul. It’s a decent payback for laughing at her cluelessness over the shirt to let him sleep in the same room as his mother. One embarrassment for another. But it never happens much to her dismay. So instead of waiting for a meteor to plummet into the lake house, she grabs the pillow she had thrown and sticks it in the middle of the bed.

Soul emerges from the bathroom a moment later, and she turns on her heel to face him, shoulders back and chin slightly raised.

“This pillow,” she points to the object in question, “will be like a wall between us. Neither one of us are allowed to cross the wall that way we’ll both stay on our side of the bed for the remaining of the week.”

“I thought we were sleeping under different sheets.”

“That was before I realized how cold it is in here, and you know I'm sensitive to cold.”

“Yeah, how could I forget with the amount of times you've put your freezing feet on me in the past,” he groans.

“I'm sure you're thankful I won't be doing that at all this week then.” She walks around the bed where her designated side is and pulls the sheets back. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. Good night.”

“What? No kiss? Aren't you a loving girlfriend?”

“Last I checked we aren't actually together when we’re in this room,” Maka says as she makes herself uncomfortable under the sheets. “Give yourself your own good night kiss or ask your booty call to do it because I'm out.”

“My what?”

“Nothing,” she says a little too harshly. “Good night, Soul.”

“Night.”

She hears him pad over to the light switch and turns them off, but not a moment later the flashlight on his phone illuminates the room. Maka's grateful she has the sanctuary of the covers to shield from the annoying brightness as she burrows herself deeper within them. A part of her hates being so spiteful and hurtful to him, but they’re exes for a reason. They aren't together, she doesn't still love him, and they won't ever be together again. The day she leaves the lake house, he falls back to being a part of her past. She can make nice and kiss him and pretend to be with him in front of his family, but in this bedroom they're exes. So her hostility toward him is understood and expected. There's no reason for her to regret it.

The last thing she hears is Soul’s low murmur as he mutters something to himself.


	3. A Daydream Away

The next morning, Maka wakes to the pillow she had placed between her and Soul completely ignored as her ex-boyfriend sleeps laid across her. His soft snores are too close to her ears for comfort and drool drips down her neck. She groans as she pushes him back over to his side of the bed, impressed by how he refuses to wake no matter how much she complains about heavy exes who doesn’t know how to sleep with his mouth closed. When he’s back on his side, she wipes the drool of her neck and wipes it onto his face as revenge before going to the bathroom to clean up.

She knows he doesn’t have any control over how he sleeps or his movements when he’s asleep, but she had thought the pillow between them would be a little more effective. Apparently she stood corrected. Tonight she would be sure to stick an extra pillow between them because she doesn’t want to wake up to Soul’s drool again. It’s enough she had to deal with it for the time they were together. Now with them being broken up, his drool is the last thing she needs. 

Once she’s cleaned up, she makes her way down the stairs in her pajamas to make herself some breakfast. None of the other occupants are in the kitchen when she arrives. Assuming Soul’s ability to sleep until well past noon is hereditary, she wouldn’t be surprised to find out the rest of his family are all still in bed. Exactly like the youngest of the Evans’. 

As she pours herself some cereal, she’s startled by a pair of arms snaking around her middle and warm lips pressing against the nape of her neck. She tenses at the feel of them as every defense course she took in college floats to the forefront of her mind, but she doesn’t get the chance to use any of it on the person who hugs her. The cheerful hum of Evelyn alerts Maka to her assailant is. 

“Morning,” Soul says, his voice rough and raw from sleep. 

Her stomach tightens and a chill runs down her spine at the sound of it, and she hates how  _ familiar _ it is. How it brings up memories of them living in their old apartment, waking up tangled together, unsure of where her arm ends and where his begins because they’ve somehow connected with one another. His lips on hers as he kisses her slowly, his addled mind still half-asleep as she cards her hands through his soft locks. 

Maka wants nothing more than to push him away and bury the feelings that rise to the surface back where they come from, but instead she gives her sweetest smile and moves to kiss him on the cheek. 

Broken up or not, she still has to maintain a facade of love for his family. 

“Morning,” she tells him and pats his cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

Dark, sleepy sanguine eyes gaze at her beneath white lashes, and her heart gives a traitorous lurch at their intensity. _His_ _bedroom eyes_ , she remembers thinking once upon a time. 

“Fantastic,” he says, a taste of sarcasm in his tone. The next bit he says low enough for only her to hear. “Could’ve gone without the pillow next to me, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“And I,” she whispers for only his ears, “could’ve gone without drool on me this morning, so I’d say we’re even.”

Something flashes in his eyes she can’t put her finger on, but doesn’t get a chance to dwell on it for long as he drops his hold on her. A shaky breath escapes from her, and a heat lingers around her waist and back from where Soul had been pressed against her. She tries her best to stomp them out into embers because she refuses to fall back to the girl she had been a long time. 

“I’ll make you coffee,” Soul drawls. “You want your cinnamon dulce or just regular?”

Her brows knit together as she says, “I didn’t bring any of my coffee with me. I didn’t know your mom had a Keurig.”

“I bought a box to bring before we left,” he shrugs. At her further confusion he adds, “I know you like your coffee so I decided to get your regular one.”

“Oh. Well, thanks. I appreciate it.” Maka pours the cereal she had grabbed into her bowl which she notices for the first time is her favorite brand. “Is this your doing as well?” she asks, shaking the box for emphasis. 

“Mom asked if you need any special groceries, and I told her to get you that one.” 

Maka nods, turning around to find the woman in question, but finding her nowhere in sight. She goes to the fridge to grab the milk for her breakfast. As she’s pouring it into her bowl, her mind wanders to the thought of how comfortable and easy it is to fall back into a normal routine with Soul. Him preparing her coffee for her, her getting cereal, their light conversation; it’s almost like they’ve gone back to being together without saying so in so many words. She isn’t sure if she should be annoyed or angry at the fact as she puts the milk back in the fridge. 

“Don’t forget I like my coffee with--”

“Two sugars and two spoons of creamer. I remember,” he interjects. “It’s been two months, Maka. Not a year.”

She chews on the inside of her mouth before hopping up on the counter, hoping it’s okay with Evelyn for her to be doing this. Soul’s gaze flits over her, and his silence convinces her it’s more than likely fine since he knows his mother better than she does. After a couple spoonfuls of her cereal, the quiet between them becomes too much, a deafening thickness against her ears, and she wracks her mind for something to fill it with. 

“What are you doing up so early?” she asks as he finishes preparing her coffee and moves onto his own cup. 

“I’m afraid that would be my fault,” Evelyn says upon re-entering the kitchen. “Wes should be down in a bit as well. He doesn’t like walking around in pajamas like his brother or his brother’s girlfriend.”

Evelyn gives Maka a playful smile, but it does nothing to soothe the embarrassment crawling over her skin upon realizing how underdressed she is. While Maka wears Soul’s shirt that’s two sizes too big for her a pug printed PJ shorts, Evelyn has on jeans and a light shirt. Even her hair is clean and polished in its ponytail. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know you guys were--”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Evelyn says with a pat on Maka’s leg. “If we had a problem with it, we should have told you last night, but we’re not picky about dress code. As you can see with my son’s attire.” She nods in Soul’s direction who only groans and mumbles something indiscernible under his breath. “But you might want to change into something else if you want to go out with us.”

“Where are you going?”

“We’re going for a hike. It’s part of our tradition when we come out here.” Evelyn smiles at her youngest son who sighs when he takes a sip of his own coffee. “Soul isn’t a big fan of it, but I’m sure you can coax him into being a team player.”

“I hate nature,” Soul grumbles. “There’s too many bugs.”

“You also hate exercising and sweating,” Maka adds. “Or any form of movement really.”

Soul glares at her half-heartedly and lightly shoves her while mumbling, “Shut up,” under his breath.

His mom laughs, and Maka hates the smile she gives the pair of them. It’s fond and warm; no doubt enjoying seeing her son’s girlfriend tease him so easily. 

“I think a hike sounds great, though, Evelyn,” Maka says. “I’d love to see the scenery around here. It looks really beautiful from what I’ve seen so far.”

“Trust me, Maka. It’s more beautiful up close than what you’ve seen around here.” Evelyn opens the fridge and takes out a few things for a hearty breakfast and dumps them onto the counter. “So be sure to store up on carbs so you can have your energy. I have lunches for us set up already, but the hike does take a lot out of you.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fit for the hike,” Soul waves off. “She’ll probably end up having to carry me half way up there.”

“I was talking to you, Soul,” she casually says, and Maka giggles at Soul’s slackened jaw. “We all know you aren’t exactly the fittest in the family.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Don’t mention it.” Evelyn gives her son a cheeky grin, a mischievous sparkle in her gaze, and Maka’s reminded of why she enjoys being around his family so much. They’re so welcoming and tease each other with ease. It tugs at her heart and fills the deepest desires she’s had since she was a girl. 

“I should go get dressed then,” Maka says, sliding off the counter. She places her bowl in the sink and takes her cup of coffee upstairs with her. “Thank you for the coffee, Soul.”

She hesitates for a minute before kissing him on the cheek. For show, of course. The thought doesn’t help subside the burning of her cheeks upon seeing Evelyn’s light smile and Soul’s face turning two shades of red in the matter of a minute. It also doesn’t silence the jolt her heart gives or the surge of old, familiar emotions surging over her chest. These next few days were definitely going to be difficult.

* * *

Soul stands out by the path, leaning against the trunk of a tree, and waits for the rest of his family to join him and Maka. They had decided to take their sweet when coming out partly due to Wes’s consistent need to protect his hair from the horrors of nature. And Maka used to tease him for how long he spent in the bathroom putting gel in his hair and getting things just right. He was nothing compared to his brother. At least Soul doesn’t go to a hairdresser once every two weeks to get his roots colored or maintain the perfect haircut.

“Remember this the next time you yell at me to hurry up in the bathroom,” he grumbles to Maka who’s kneeling beside him rummaging through her backpack. 

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

“Wes and his hair. Remember how long it took him to get his hair done next time you yell at me for taking an absurd amount of time in the bathroom.”

Maka pulls out her bug spray and hands it to him. “Can you spray me, please?”

He nods for her to turn around so he can do so. They’re silent as he sprays the sticky substance over her exposed arms, legs, and neck before she turns around for him to spray her front as well. When he gets to her face, she scrunches her eyes and tightens her mouth like she’s in pain, but it’s absurdly cute nonetheless. 

“Who says there’ll be a next time?” she asks, taking the spray back. “We’re broken up, remember.”

“Right,” he whispers, letting the sting of her words stab him in the heart. “How could I forget?” 

“Did you want some bug spray before I put it up?”

“No,” he says, scowling at the orange can she offers him. “I hate that stuff. It feels gross on my skin.”

“Fine. Suit yourself.” She dumps it back in her bag and stands. “But don’t come crying me to take care of your bug bites later on. You know how sensitive your skin is to them.”

“I’ll be fine, but thanks for the concern,” he grins. 

She rolls her eyes and turns to face his family as they make their way closer to them. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she has on the award-winning smile she’s been giving to everyone but him over the last two months. The only sign of emotion he gets from her nowadays are scowls, grimaces, and glares, but he supposes he deserves them. They are exes after all. 

Still it doesn’t make him any less bitter and annoyed at the situation. Maybe inviting Maka to the lake house this weekend was a bad idea after all especially when his heart still yearns and aches for her. The few kisses she’s given him since they arrived yesterday have been torturous and splendid all at the same time. 

“Are we ready to get this show on the road?” Wes animatedly asks. Soul refrains himself from eye rolling, but the groan comes out of its own volition. “Oh, come on, Soul. Don’t be such a grumpy pants! The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and it’s a beautiful day for a wonderful hike!”

“More like the world is too awake for me right now,” he grumbles. 

“You’re seriously killing the mood here, little brother. Lighten up a bit.”

“I think you’re forgetting he doesn’t know how to lighten up,” Maka jumps in. 

“Ah, right you are. Soul’s perpetually grumpy and sour no matter what,” Wes grins. 

“Leave your brother alone,” Gran says.

She knocks her cane against the back of Wes’ knees and thus almost making him fall. He stumbles over his own two feet as he rights himself up and brushes invisible dust off his shirt. 

“We have some hiking to get to, and I won’t have either of you bickering along the way.”

“You sure you can make it all the way up there, Gran?” Wes asks, a cheeky grin spreading over his face. “Don’t want you breaking any hips or anything.”

Gran’s sharp blue eyes glare at him as she walks ahead of them, and a playful smile dances on the edges of her mouth. “What have I told you about underestimating your grandmother, boy? I may not be as young as you kids, but I can handle my own.”

“Is that a challenge?” Soul teases. 

“Rose. Don’t,” his mom sighs, but Gran doesn’t listen.

“You two are quick to forget about the past, but if you wanna see who can outlast who, I’ll take you two on.”

“It’s a deal,” Wes smiles. 

Soul nods his agreeance as they make their way down the path his family has created over the years for the annual hike. It’s been a tradition to see who can outlast who between him, his brother, and grandmother. His mom has never been a fan of it, but it’s part of the fun the week gives. They so rarely get together like this, and, with Soul off doing his own thing now, he rarely sees his grandmother as often as he had a long time ago. He enjoys the friendly competition between the three of them; it’s one of the things he always enjoyed about this trip. 

Even if it is inevitable for him to lose. 

* * *

Maka stands near a cliff, raises her arms into the air, and feels the gentle, cool breeze brush against her from being up so high in the mountains. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen the earth look so mesmerizing and surreal. The trees below paint the world in swirls of greens and browns with a few blemishes of orange and red from the leaves as they slowly change to match the season before fading out into the clear blue sky. A few birds fly overhead, their calls mingling with the other sounds of nature. It’s freeing and wonderful; she can see herself falling in love with a place like this.

Save for the sound of her ex-boyfriend huffing and puffing behind her, it’s lovely.

“Fuck,” Soul breathlessly says, “are we there yet?”

She drops her arms to her side and turns to scowl at his form sitting on the dirt. “I told you I can carry the backpack for you. You know how out of shape you are.”

“I’m fine,” he waves. He takes the backpack off and unzips it to shuffle through it. “You pack any water in here?”

“No. You said you were going to pack your own so I let you.” She takes her own backpack off, shaking her head at his forgetfulness, and pulls out one of the waters she had brought because she knew this would happen. “Here. I brought extra.”

Soul turns to her, beads of sweat decorating his flushed face, and he gladly takes the water from her. He chugs half of it down in three gulps. It’s a little silly how tired and out of breath he is considering it isn’t that hot up in the mountains, at least, not compared to the desert where Maka’s from, but Soul has never been the athletic type. His exercise routine consists mainly of him doing whatever thirty minute workout she can drag him into doing on a good day when they were together. Other than that, he rarely did anything exhilarating of his own free will. 

“Thanks,” he sighs. 

“Don’t mention it.”

Laughter from his family a few yards away draws her attention to them, and she sees Wes’s grinning face flash towards them before he continues on his way. She has the distinct feeling he's laughing at his brother’s low stamina and almost feels sorry for Soul. Whatever teasing Wes has in mind for later won’t sit well with her ex-boyfriend, the boy who hates being the center of attention and embarrassed in front of a group of people. 

“You almost ready to catch up with the others?” Maka asks after a minute or two. 

“Yeah, I think I’m good,” Soul says, standing up and brushing the dirt of his pants. “Maybe I shouldn’t have made that bet with Gran.”

“You think?”

He glances at her and pouts. “I don’t need your sass, okay”

“It’s not sass, Soul.” They start heading in the direction of his family. “It’s the truth, and you know it. You aren’t fit enough to make these kinda hikes even if you’ve done them before. Your form of exercising is eating junk food and changing the channel.”

“I work out when I want to.”

“You work out when either me or Star bribe you to work out,” she says, her voice light and teasing. A playful smile spreads across her face as he snorts and rolls his eyes. 

“I’m capable of working out on my own, thanks,” he sniffs. “‘Sides, what does it matter? I like the way I am. I’m happy being the way that I am.”

“You got winded walking up the path, Soul.”

“You say that like it’s bad.”

“It’s not, but maybe it’s a sign you should start doing something.” She bumps her shoulder into his to catch his attention. “Unless you like Wes teasing you about how out of shape you are.”

“Fair point. I’ll think about it.”

Maka laughs and her smile widens. She feels her walls slowly start to fall as they walk beside each other in comradery, and can’t make heads or tails if it’s good or bad. It’s easy going back to who they used to be -- the light banter and teasing -- but the reason they broke up still holds true. He broke her heart, threw everything between them away, and for what? For a life of being single because last she checked he lived with Black*Star and not…

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she tells him. At his confused look, she adds, “The way we’re talking right now. It doesn’t mean I forgive you or want to be with you.”

His brows briefly knit together before relaxing. “I didn’t think it did. Don’t worry, I still know you hate my guts.”

“Good,” she says a little sharper than necessary. “I don’t want you getting any false hope or anything.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Silence falls between them for a moment or two. “You okay, Maka? Seem a little tense.”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs. He opens his mouth to comment further, but decides against it and lightly shakes his head. “Guess I forgot how fast your mood swings can happen. Not used to it like I was before.”

“Lucky you get another five days to gets used to it,” she mutters.

“I guess,” he says. 

It’s tiring being mad at Soul and hating his guts and keeping up the rouse she doesn’t want anything to do with him. The truth of the matter is she wants everything to do with him still. No matter how she tries to sway things with her mind and heart, the latter always refuses to listen and leans on the good times she had with Soul once upon time. Her heart constantly reminds her of the happiness he evoked from her, the carefree love they had building between them, and the comfort she felt with him. She trusted him --  _ still _ trusts him -- which makes things  _ complicated _ . 

Crossing her arms in front of her, Maka quickens her steps and leaves Soul behind her.

* * *

He watches her walk ahead of him and frowns.

For a moment there he could have sworn her walls are slowly coming down for him once again. She had seemed like the old Maka he knew and loved, the one who smiled and joked with him like old friends, but he guesses it's a pipe dream to see that Maka again. This Maka hates him and wants nothing to do with him which is fine by him. They're only pretending to be together for the next five days like she had so gracefully pointed out, and even if it stings to think about losing her a second time, he can handle it. Maka's his ex-girlfriend for a reason. 

A reason only she has knowledge of. 

Sometimes he wishes he knew the exact occurrence that called for her to want to break up with him in the first. The days leading to their breakup hadn't shown a single sign of what was to come. Him and Maka still cuddled on the couch, in bed, kissed regularly, teased and flirted with each other like they had always done, and their sex life hadn't changed. They had been good,  _ happy _ . She  _ loved _ him; he didn't have to think twice about it two months ago like he thought he would have . If Maka showed any sign of growing tired of him, she had done a piss poor job of doing so. 

Sighing, he decides not to worry about the inner workings of Maka’s mind and walks to catch up with her and his family. 

They make it to their lunch spot thirty minutes later. 

Lucky for Soul, he isn't as tired and worn out like he had been before, but it isn't by much. He's ready to drown himself in water as he collapses on the ground next to Maka’s feet, dirt layering on his tongue with each huff and puff. His Gran’s light chuckles near by dance over to his drumming ears followed by a snide comment from Wes he chooses to ignore. The last thing he needs are the taunts to ruin his already low mood; he doesn't need them remind him how greatly out of shape he's in. Maka had done enough of that earlier. 

“You gonna make it?” the girl in questions asks followed by her finger poking his cheek. “Or am I going to have to carry you back down?”

He groans and moves his head toward the ground. Maybe he can suffocate on the dirt to help ease the embarrassment coursing through his body. 

“You knew making the bet was hopeless, little brother,” Wes chimes in. “You're out of shape with zero luck of getting into shape on the way up here.”

“Get your face out of the dirt and drink some water,” Maka reprimands. She presses something cool against his neck, and he moans at the pleasurable feel of it. “Keep that on your neck and maybe you’ll feel better.”

Soul slowly lifts his head to the side and out of the dirt, careful not to move whatever’s on his neck, and peaks at it to find a white rag wrapped around his neck. He supposes Maka must have dipped it into the melted water in the cooler his mom had brought for their drinks because there’s no other way she could have done so otherwise. Warmth spreads over him at the gesture, and he smiles of his own accord. 

“Thanks,” he tells her. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

She leans down and presses the back of her hand to his forehead. He isn’t entirely positive if the heat building on his face is from the hike itself or a reaction to her touch, but the way he presses into it tells him it’s the latter. 

“Your warmer than normal,” she says as she stands. Nodding to where his family are setting things up at the bench, she say, “Get up and sit down and drink some water. It’ll do you good so you don’t get dehydrated.”

“But the ground is pretty nice.”

“Soul. You can’t stay on the ground the entire time. You need to eat something.”

Sanguine eyes stare up at her as he quietly says, “Since when did you care about my well-being,” low enough for only her to hear. 

A faint blush dusts over her cheeks as she folds her arms in front of her and scowls. “I’m supposed to be a caring girlfriend, remember?”

“Stop moping around ‘cause you lost the bet,” Wes calls to them, “and get over here. We’re ready to eat!”

Maka’s gaze flits over to where his family is before returning to him and offers him her hand, but he chooses to ignore it and gets up on his own. He dusts the dirt off the front of his pants and shirt along with a bit stuck on his face while Maka watches him. The annoyance vibrating off her fills the air between them, telling him he had chosen wrong.

“I’m a big boy, Maka,” he says once he’s done. “I can take care of myself.”

Her face is calm, unreadable. Usually her expressions are as bare and open as the books she reads, but today something feels off about her, and he can’t put his finger on it. Whether it’s the stress of pretending to be together for the sake of his family or the fact she’s even with him finally getting to her, he doesn’t know. Maybe what they need is a proper conversation alone, away from his family, to properly talk about things and clear the air between them because another five days like this won’t be good for either of them.

They join the rest of his family at the bench in the clearing him, his brother, and their dad had created years ago when they first started coming out to the lake house. Pine trees stand tall around them, stretching out to the sky with the picnic table in the middle and a campfire ready to go nearby. It adds a hint of charm to the property he’s sure will help it sell well when they’re ready to get rid of it, but he doubts that’ll ever happen. His family visits the place every year and they’re all far too attached to it to even think about selling. He’s even heard his mom talk about how nice it’ll be to bring kids to the lake house. 

Too bad it won’t ever happen.

Soul manages to keep up with the conversation, giving snide remarks when Wes teases him and keeping up with the jokes his gran says. Even Maka is able to keep up with the conversation and jump when needs be and laughs with the rest of his family as they poke fun of him and his failed stamina. It isn’t until they’re all resting with full bellies he decides to pull Maka to the side and away from his family much to the enjoyment of his brother who gives a long wolf whistle as they walk away only for their mother to pinch his side causing the wolf whistle to change into a yelp. 

“So what do you wanna talk about?” Maka asks once they’re a safe distance away from his family. 

“I wanna talk about this week and us being back together. It’s fine for you to push me away when my family isn’t around, but you can’t do that when they’re here. I know we’re supposed to break up again by the end of the week, but my family aren’t idiots. They’ll notice something’s up.”

“They haven’t noticed anything yet.”

“ _ Yet _ being the key word there.”

“Okay, so what’s your point?”

He stops walking and she pauses a beat later and turns to him. 

“Is something wrong?”

She sucks in her bottom lip, rolling her teeth over it before shaking her head. “No. Why would anything be wrong? If you want me to lighten up for the rest of the time we’re here, I can. It’s just… Nevermind.”

Maka turns away from him and sighs. He hates how he wants to reach out and comfort her because the irritation and unease vibrating off her body rests in the air thick between them. It’s an old habit, old need, to hold her against him and let whatever’s bothering her so heavily be weeped onto his shoulder while he soothes her and kisses her temple, but they aren’t together. No matter what rouse they’re pulling on his family, they aren’t together and it pains him not to be there for her when she’s obviously broken over  _ something _ . 

It doesn’t prevent him from resting his hand on the small of her back and rubbing the spot there. 

“If you need to talk about something, I’m here, you know,” he tells her. “We may not be together, but you can still talk to me, right?”

Her dark green eyes are vacant as she stares at him, but she nods nonetheless. 

* * *

“I told you to put on bug spray,” Maka grumbles as she puts aloe vera on one of the many bug bites on his body. “You have sensitive skin, you know that. You’re always the one who fusses at me for not putting enough sunscreen on when we go out. Don’t know why you aren’t like that with yourself.”

“Because I hate the smell of bug spray.”

“It was scentless, Soul.”

“It leaves a sticky residue on me,” he retorts. Quietly, he says, “Maybe I did this to make you touch me.”

He feels rather than sees those dark green eyes of hers flash his way and turn into slits. When she speaks, her voice is low and rough like she’s trying to muster every ounce of anger within her small body to reprimand him, but he notices the half-heartedness behind it. She isn’t wholly mad at him nor is she happy to be touching him; she’s somewhere in-between. Interesting.

“And if you did do this on purpose and I find out you did, I’m gonna kick your ass into next week.”

“Not like it matters since we aren’t together,” he reminds her. “Unless you somehow forgot that.”

She’s silent for a moment or two. “We’ve only been  _ together _ for two days now. That’s not enough for me to forget we’re broken up.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he mumbles. 

A part of him wants to comment on the moment he caught her staring at him while playing Monopoly, but another part of him remains quiet about the subject. He’s fearful of what she’ll say about it, if she’ll deny his hopeful thoughts surrounding it, and break his heart all over again with the awful truth of their relationship. It’s silly of him to wish she still loves him, he knows that. Maybe he’s a hopeless romantic after all who expects Maka to forgive him for whatever God awful thing he did. Maybe he secretly prays this week will end with them back together and happy again. Maybe he’s only fooling himself with high expectations because this is Maka he’s thinking about.

Maka isn’t someone who easily forgives. Her ten year grudge on her dad is enough proof.

“There,” she says, patting his arm and closing the top of the lotion. “That’s the last of the bug bites. When you take a shower in the morning, you should feel better.”

Soul’s gaze follows her as she climbs off the bed and goes to where her suitcase is. For a moment he thinks she’s going to change in front of him -- a sweet perk of their relationship he’s missed -- but then gathers her clothes in a ball before disappearing to the bathroom. Guess dreamers can never win. No matter how much they hope and pray and wish, their dreams will always remain as just that: dreams. 

Sighing, he goes over to his own suitcase to change into his pajamas. Unlike Maka, he has zero care if she walks back in with him half naked or in the middle of getting dressed. It isn’t like she’s never seen him bare ass naked before anyways. They’ve seen each other in every variation of undress throughout their relationship enough times for there to be no secrets between them. He knows the bruise shaped birthmark on her left butt cheek, the cluster of freckles on her hips, and the scar over her belly from a bicycle accident when she was six; he knows them all like the back of his own hand. 

Every blemish, scar, freckle, mole on her is embedded in his mind. The same is true for her about him. 

“Soul!” Maka shrieks when the bathroom door opens. “What the hell are you doing? Can’t you wait for me to get done to change in the privacy of the bathroom?”

“God, can you be any louder? I don’t think my gran heard you,” he bites back, pulling his shirt on over his head. She’s lucky he decided to change his pants first. He’s more than sure she would be throwing things if she had walked into his bone decorated boxers rather than his bareback “‘Sides it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before. Or did you forget about that too in the last two months?”

“That’s not the point, Soul.”

The first thing he notices upon turning to face her is the blush dusting over her cheeks as she stomps toward the bed. His love addled brain connects it with her staring at him earlier, and he tries to ignore the way his heart flutters in his chest with hope and good vibes. He can’t let himself be fooled by her involuntary actions. She still hates his guts no matter how he spins things. This week will end exactly like they had agreed it will.

No matter how much he doesn’t want it to. 

So ignoring her practically punching the bed as she sets two pillows in the middle, he says, “Then what is the point? That you don’t want me dressing out  _ here _ for you to walk in on me?”

“Yes. Isn’t that obvious? You’re my ex-boyfriend, and I shouldn’t be seeing you getting dressed or undressed or anything dealing with your naked body.”

“This coming from the girl who had her hands on me rubbing lotion on my--”

“That was different, and you know it!” she huffs, straightening to stare at him wide-eyed. “You’re my ex-boyfriend, Soul. I shouldn’t be--I shouldn’t have to--I shouldn’t--Argh! I don’t even know what I’m trying to get at.”

Maka sits on the bed and ties her hair into a bun on top of her head. Her irritation and annoyance vibrates off her body, expresses themselves in her actions as she roughly tightens the hair tie, and comes out in small growls. He doesn’t know what happened to make her so flustered, but he’s afraid to get anywhere close to her. Soul’s seen the aftermath of Maka’s rage in the past one too many times to count, and he knows it only spells trouble with a capital T. Except in this case he can’t coax her anger down with cuddles or kisses. A terrible predicament to be in.

“You gonna go to bed mad or what?” he asks, trying to make light of the situation. 

“I’m fine,” she says. “Just… trying to figure some things out right now.”

He wants to ask what those things are, but chooses not to.

“Good. I’d rather not wake up with bruises on me, thanks,” he grumbles before making his way to the bed.

The bed creaks and tips behind as Maka settles down for the night, and he does the same. They lay there in silence for a moment, their backs to the other, until she breaks it.

“It’s just frustrating is all,” she whispers. 

“What is?” 

She’s silent for another beat. 

“Nothing. Good night, Soul.” Maka moves to turn off the lamp on her nightstand indicating the conversation is done. “And try to stay on your side of the bed. I don’t want to wake up with drool on me again, thank you.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says, turning his own lamp off. 

As he drifts to sleep, his brain tries to make sense of what could be frustrating his ex-girlfriend, but he comes up empty. 


	4. Unchained Melody

The next morning Maka wakes up to find a lack of drool on her neck along with the other side of the bed cold and empty. She rubs at her eyes and listens to the bathroom in case Soul is showering or in there, but hears nothing. Complete silence fills their room which is rare. He’s never woken up before her in the past; it’s always been her who’s had to pull him out of bed ten minutes before he has to leave to go anywhere, and she’s curious to find out what’s caused the change.

Rolling out of bed, she stretches and walks over to her suitcase to grab a clean pair of clothes for the day, tying her hair up into a ponytail as she makes her way down the stairs. When she gets close to the landing, she sees two new suitcases sitting by the front door and hears voices coming from the dining room. Familiar voices meet her ears as she stands at the bottom of stairs listening for one in particular, but can’t pinpoint it in the mix of voices. The only one that sets her off is the unfamiliar, gruff voice of a man as he talks to Evelyn. 

“I thought you said you weren't coming this week due to other circumstances,” Evelyn says. “What happened?”

“My meeting ended early,” comes the unfamiliar voice. 

Maka stops outside the dining room where they’re at to listen knowing very well she shouldn’t, but her curiosity gets the better of her. Unease washes over her at the sound of the new man’s voice. Every inch of her is on edge, her intuition screaming at her to avoid him at all costs, but she remains rooted to the spot.

“So I decided to come join you all at the lake house, but if this is the warm welcome you’re all going to give me, I’ll take it my presence is wanted here.”

“It’s not that you aren’t wanted here,” Rose says, “it’s that none of us were expecting you to come.”

“Yes, and I’m aware of that, but I can’t imagine what the problem here is, Mother. This is my property just as much as it is yours and Evelyn’s.”

There’s a pause in which someone sighs heavily, and Maka feels her own heart tighten at the palpable tension in the air. Whoever this new person is, he isn’t welcomed in the Evans family, and she wants to know why. Wants to know why Soul hasn’t spoken yet, what’s keeping his tongue in cheek, because he isn’t one to fall silent unless it’s someone he isn’t comfortable around. 

She supposes her ex-boyfriend is what’s keeping her rooted there.

“We have a guest with us,” Evelyn finally says.

“And is this guest taking my place?” the man asks, a bite in his words. 

“No,” Evelyn is quick to say. “She’s here with Soul which is why--”

“Soul brought a girl?”

“Yes.” Maka hears the tightness in Evelyn’s voice as she says the word. 

“Where is she? I’d love to meet her.”

“I’m not entirely--”

Evelyn is cut short by Maka rounding the corner to finally see who this new stranger is. A man who looks to be in his fifties sits at the head of the table with Wes, Rose, and Evelyn on either side of him. He’s wearing a grey tweed suit with a dark blue tie, his hair is clean and cut, the complete opposite of Soul’s or Wes’s, but his strong jaw is reminiscent of the boy she’s come to love over the years. The only off putting aspect about him is the sharpness of his dull, brown eyes; the way they trail over her body and scrutinize her attire underneath them. She swallows and becomes self-conscious. Maybe she should have brought some nice spring dresses with her instead of the torn blue jeans and floral shirt she had opted to bring instead. 

Then again, she didn’t know she would be judged by her  _ clothes _ . 

She’s quick to determine who this man can be, though. The head of the Evans household is someone she’s never met before since every time Soul invited her over for family gatherings, he was always holed up in his office or out of town. But there’s no doubt in her mind this is Soul’s father. 

“And who might you be?” he asks, standing from his chair. He presses one arm over her torso while the other hides behind his back.

“Maka,” she says a little too fast. Slower, she says, “Maka Albarn. I’m Soul’s--”

“Girlfriend,” he finishes for her. 

The way he says it like she’s a disgrace to the Evans family name, like she’s an unwanted guest, makes her want to punch him square in the face. She holds herself back, though, because first impressions are important to her. Even when the person is a douchebag. 

“Right. And who are you?”

He closes the distance between them, his hand extended toward her, and smiles though it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Charles Evans. I’m Soul’s father. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

His handshake is strong and curt. He doesn’t hold her grasp for longer than a second, and she doesn’t miss the way he brushes his palm on his pants like she’s a lesser human than him. It’s no wonder Soul never wanted to introduce them before. The man is utter trash. 

“Where’s Soul?” Maka asks Evelyn, not bothering to return the kind words to Charles. 

It’s Wes who answers her. 

“He might be in the music room knowing him.” The cold glare he gives his father tells Maka the reason behind Soul’s disappearance has something to do with the man, and she nods. 

“Thank you,” she addresses to Wes. To Charles, she says, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Indeed.”

* * *

Soul stares at the black and white ivory keys of the piano his parents --  _ father _ \-- had bought for him when he was a boy so he could practice when they were at the lake house. He had managed to avoid the music room over the last five years and instead focused on spending time with his family, but this year is different. With the arrival of his father, he finds himself retreating back to the place his nightmares still crawl, the sickening feeling flipping and twisting his stomach the longer he sits there.

Memories of the painstaking time he spent in front of the piano practicing Mozart and Beethoven piece after piece until his fingers grew numb under the watchful eye of the man he hates float to the front of his mind. His vision blurs into swirls of black and white, an irksome buzz ringing in his ears until his swallowed into darkness. Piano pieces of his childhood crash around him, invading his senses, and drown him beneath their weight as demons pull him under. He feels lost to the world around him as he reverts back to his childhood and wishes for a way out. Suffocates beneath the pressure of music and his father’s demanding practice sessions. 

“Soul?”

He blinks at the sound of his name. 

The voice is soft and light, very reminiscent of the music room itself as sunlight streams in through the French windows and the swaying trees come back into his view. Crystal blue water reflecting the scorching sun above dances in front of him as he leaves his reverie, and he’s reminded of where he is. Reminded of the people he’s spending the week with, the new addition to their lake house. Birds chirping outside calm the crashing waves around him as he returns to his position on the piano bench. Warmth spreads over his heart at the familiar hand gripping his shoulder, and he lifts his own to cover it.

“Are you okay?” Maka asks. 

Slowly, he turns to meet her gaze, and his face must be pale because her brows knit together at the sight of it. 

“I’m fine,” he croaks out. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Maka wets her lips before sliding onto the bench beside him. “Maybe because your dad’s here?”

He doesn’t meet her gaze as he stares at ivory keys and brushes his finger along them. A familiar melody he wrote a long time ago back in college when he had first met Maka comes to mind as he plays the first few notes of it. It’s calming and serene like the soul residing in his ex-girlfriend; kind and warm like the hugs and kisses she used to give him when they were together, and it’s enough to let him breath a little easier. 

“Yeah. Wasn’t expecting him to be here or else I wouldn’t have invited you at all,” he confesses. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. You didn’t know.” She pauses. “He’s a charming man, though. I don’t need to think hard to figure out where you get it from.”

“I take that as an insult.”

“I’m joking, Soul,” she says, bumping her shoulder into his. Her smile is genuine and warm as it meets her eyes, and he feels his own face a crack a smile in return. 

“I’m guessing you two didn’t have a good first meeting, huh?” She shakes her head, and he nods. “Yeah. I figured. My dad’s kinda… difficult to get along with. He has very high standards.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Don’t take it personally. He doesn’t like anyone if you want the truth.”

“I’ll try not to.”

They fall silent, and Soul plays the next chords of the song he knows by heart. It’s the only song he’s willing to play on piano voluntarily given the person it’s for and the calming emotions it evokes from him. The song -- Maka’s melody -- has always been his retreat, the one song he can play over and over on his worst days and be fine in the end. It’s the same effect Maka’s presence has on him even when she hates his guts and can’t stand him; even when she’s being hard-headed and refusing to give him a smile. She’s his escape, his one true love.

She places her hand over his and squeezes, making him jump in surprise. 

“I’m here for you, you know,” she whispers. Soul stares at her, but she doesn’t return his gaze as she continues. “I know we’re broken up, but it’s like you said yesterday, I’m still here for you. I know… I know you and your dad have never gotten along, and if you need someone to talk to or help you through this, I’m here.”

Dark green eyes lift to meet his. 

There’s a certain sadness in them as she holds his gaze, and he sees more than feels her walls slowly coming down to let him in. Whether it has something to do with his father’s appearance or something else entirely, he isn’t sure, and he doesn’t think he wants to ever know for sure either. If Maka is willing to let him in for the week and pretend to be a couple for the sake of getting through his father, he’ll take it, because when it comes down to it, she knows him better than anyone else. The topic of his father has never been one they’ve talked about in full, only in passing, but through the few conversations they’ve had about the man, she knows how hard his regime has been for Soul.

Knows the affects his strict life style had over Soul and his music. 

“You wanna stay in here for a while?” she asks. “Give your family some time to talk to your dad before we go out there?”

“I’d like that,” he admits. “More than anything.”

“Good.” She removes her hand from his and straightens up, tugging at the hem of her shirt and seeming to hide the blush he catches blossoming over her face. “So why don’t you show me how to play that song you were just playing?”

He cocks a white brow at her. “You wanna learn how to play? But your taste in music is shit, Maka, and you’re pretty tone deaf, too.”

Her lips purse as she half-heartedly glares at him. “You’re such a music  _ snob _ . If you gave Taylor Swift and Beyonce a chance, I’m sure you’d enjoy them. They aren’t that terrible like you keep saying they are. They’re better than the other pop music out there.”

“I’m not talking about those two artists. I’m talking about your need to play Deadmau5 and Avicii when you’re trying to concentrate on shit,” he grins.

“Just because you aren’t a fan of electronica doesn’t mean you can insult them,” she says. “I don’t like your jazz music, but I tolerate it. I don’t tell you how shitty it is,  _ and _ I did try to listen to it once. Remember?”

“I remember it lasting for only an hour before you gave up,” he says. Maka puffs out her cheeks and opens her mouth to say comment, but he interjects before she can. “I’ll show you to play the song I was playing, though. If you’d like.”

Green meets red when she glances at him. “So long as you don’t comment on my tone deafness or tease me about music, I’ll sit here and be a good student.”

“I won’t make any promises.”

“Neither will I.”

Soul starts by teaching her the three main chords in the song before placing his hands over hers and guiding them to each separate note. Her touch is warm and soft beneath his, a comfortable feeling settles over his chest, and he doesn’t realize he holds his breath until it leaves him a minute or two afterward. It’s funny how easy it is for them to fall back into old habits and how they were before the breakup. Maka doesn’t stiffen for more than second under his touch, and he swears he feels her beating heart against his fingers as they sit there. 

Yet, it still surprises him when she asks to sit between his legs on the bench to get a better feel of the piano, and his breath hitches at the feel of her back against his chest. The smell of her coconut shampoo invades his senses as it takes everything within him not to sniff it and drown himself in the scent. It’s familiar and nice; it reminds him of how they were before everything went to shit. He fights against the urge to kiss the crown of Maka’s head and curl his arms around her waist, feel her relax against him like they had done on their couch so many times. 

It’s so tempting to cup her chin in his fingers and kiss her and forget they’re not together just for a moment. To fall back to their old selves and let himself get caught up in the past. 

So tempting, but he holds back nonetheless. 

* * *

Maka sucks in a heavy breath at the feel of Soul’s chest on her back, and she fights the urge to relax against him and let the emotions running through go. She wants to cry and bask in everything Soul is, everything he was before, and let herself forgive him for breaking her heart. She wants to turn around and kiss him slowly, deeply; feel the brush of his lips on hers, the hitch of his breath at her touch, and feel his tongue slide into her mouth. It’s so easy to go back to how they were before the truth came out of what he did at night, who he went to see, and she hates it.

Hates it because they’re supposed to stay broken up. They aren’t meant to get back together. He’s a cheater and a liar no matter how she tries to spin things around to prove to herself he isn’t. It’s easy to forgive him and allow herself to fall in love with him again, but she refuses to let herself be ensnared in his trap again. 

_ All men are the same _ , she reminds herself,  _ and Soul is no different _ . 

But god is it tempting to go back. 

* * *

They leave the music room an hour later after Soul’s taught her the first half of the song with little to no success. She had at least learned how to perform the first couple notes, but she doesn’t think she’ll be able to remember them by heart like Soul has. He’s been classically trained in the gift of music and knows everything by heart and soul alone unlike Maka. Her only talent is remembering stories she’s read about a dozen times like the book resting in their bedroom upstairs, but she doesn’t much mind. His music and her books have always found a way to live together peacefully even when they aren’t together together like they had once been.

As they enter the living room, Maka catches sight of Charles first, one leg resting on top of the other as he sorts through some papers. His posture is perfect like he had been taught to sit like this for all of his. So unlike the perpetual slouch Soul seems to keep with himself no matter how many times she chastises him to fix it. Now it makes sense why he always rolled his eyes and ignored her. He didn’t want to be like his father; she doesn’t blame him.

She feels Soul stiffen and suck in a hard breath beside her when he sees his father, and she doesn’t think twice as she slides her hand in his. His grasp is warm and comfortable as she squeezes, and her heart stops when his thumb brushes along the back of her hand. 

“Ah, Soul. Good of you to finally join us,” Charles says, his tone hard and cold as he addresses his youngest son.

There’s a bite of sarcasm in Soul’s voice, but it isn’t much different from his father’s. “Yeah, well, I needed a little break before I saw you, Dad.”

If Charles is taken aback by his son’s sharp tongue, he doesn’t react to it, and instead waves a hand over the couch in front of him. “Please. Sit. We have some catching up to do, don’t we?”

Soul flinches slightly at the request, but leads them over to the couch regardless. Maka’s surprised by her refusal to leave his side because technically she doesn’t need to be here for Soul. They’re exes, they aren’t together, they won’t  _ be _ together when all of this is over, but at the same time she doesn’t trust Charles enough to leave him alone with his son. So exes be damned, Soul doesn’t need to be alone when facing his father for the first time in what Maka assumes is over a year. 

“What do you wanna talk about?” Soul asks first once they’re both settled.

“How is your work going? Are you still working as a music teacher, or have you found a more  _ respectable _ job?” Charles asks. 

“I’m still a music teacher,” Soul flatly tells him. 

“Which is a respectable job,” Maka chimes in. “Soul’s one of the best music teachers his school has had in years and won an award for it last year when five of his students got placed in nationals.”

Both Charles and Soul are staring at her slightly wide-eyed, the latter more so than the former, but both surprised by her outburst. Even Maka’s thrown off by her need to defend Soul. But there was something in the way his father said  _ respectable _ that made her blood boil. She knows perfectly well his father had never approved of Soul’s career choice and had told her as much when they were in college after specific concerts when the empty seat next to his mother had never been more apparent. His determination to win over his father for four years was something she related to given her own high school self doing the same but with an absent mother instead. 

“I see,” Charles says. “That’s quite impressive, but, as you well know, son,” he turns his attention back to Soul, “you can’t go very far with being a music teacher even when you have so much talent in doing so. I’ve arranged for you to audition for a performance group in New York City in two weeks. I’m expecting you to be there since I had to pull a lot of strings for it, and I’m risking my own reputation in this career for you to audition. Remember that when you go.”

Maka opens her mouth to say something, but Soul silences her with a squeeze of her hand. 

“What do you mean you arranged for me to audition? I told you I don’t want to be part of some stuck up symphony group,” Soul growls.

“Tone,” Charles warns, “and this group will be good for you, Soul. You’ll be recognized in the music industry as a respectable musician.”

“I’m already a respectable musician, though. Maka just told you that. Don’t you care?”

“Of course I care about your career as a music teacher. It’s very nice you enjoy teaching children how to play and leading them to nationals and such, but a music teacher is nothing in this career. You don’t get the recognition you deserve or the career options you’re going to want later on. This symphony audition will be good for you. Trust me on this.”

“I don’t want to be a part of a symphony, though. That’s something you and Wes want, something you two are good at, and even if I get in, your music snob friends will never see me as anything else except for another  _ Evans _ . That’s why you want me to do this, Dad.” Soul pauses, sucks in a deep breath, and Maka squeezes his hand for support before he continues, his voice low. “I’m tired of living in the shadow of my dad and Wes. I wish you can see that. I’m not like you two, and I never will be. My type of music is different.”

Charles isn’t fazed by his son’s rant and only blinks in recognition of it which irks Maka more than it should. Parents not listening to their kids has never really sat well with her. Her mama had spent a good majority of Maka’s high school career lecturing her over what she expected of her, which schools she should apply for, and what major was appropriate for her without ever once listening to Maka or recognizing the talent Maka had in her own right. It had always been Spirit, the man who she assumed never noticed or cared for her, who pushed into doing what she wanted to do. 

Which is how she got to where she is now, and why her copy of Persuasion is so important to her.

“That’s why this will be the best career choice for you, son,” Charles said. “You will learn how to properly compose a song people enjoy and how to become one of the greatest composers of your generation. Growth in the music world is about changing your taste, and I’m sure you’re over the dark pieces you’ve composed in the past.”

“You’re not listening to him,” Maka says, ignoring the warning look Soul gives her. To him, she says, “No. I’m going to say this.”

To Charles, she says, “Soul is telling you he doesn’t want to do something, but you keep insisting he does which is  _ wrong _ . You should listen to your son and respect his career choice no matter what. Everything you’re saying isn’t what he wants to do. Soul’s happy being a music teacher which is something you would know if you bothered to be a part of his life. He hated performing in the symphony at our college, and I watched him stress over performing every night. Something you would know if you cared to show up to a performance.”

“Maka,” Soul growls in warning.

“Do you seriously want to sit here and listen to your dad tell you what  _ he _ wants you to do?” Maka asks him.

“This isn’t your battle, though.”

“I’m not going to sit here and watch you take his bullshit,” she hisses to him.

“With all do respect, ma’am,” Charles says, “but this is a family matter. It doesn’t concern someone who isn’t part of this family.”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Soul defends. 

“Girlfriend isn’t a fiance, son.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. It doesn’t matter whether she has a ring on or not, I’m not gonna let you dismiss her like one of the girls Wes brings home.”

In another room, Maka hears a faint cry of  _ hey _ followed by another person shushing them.

“Soul,” Charles sharply says like a warning, “I don’t care what you think or if you agree with this  _ girl _ , you’re going to the audition whether you like it or not. End of discussion.”

“No, I’m not,” Soul snaps. “Listen to me, dammit! I don’t want to go to a stupid audition!”

“I really think--”

Before Charles can finish his sentence, though, Soul stands, pulling Maka up with him, and throws a glare at his father. Without saying a word, though, he leads them both out of the room and up the stairs until they reach their bedroom and shuts the door behind them. Maka stands to the side and watches as Soul paces the length of the bedroom, running his hands through his hair, and taking calming breaths every five seconds. The energy bounces off him from the conversation, and she’s almost afraid to say anything. Maybe it had been out of line for her to raise her voice to his father, but she couldn’t help it. He wasn’t listening to his son, and it bothered her.

Bothered so much she couldn’t stand on the sidelines and watch Soul being forced into something he didn’t want to do.

Again.

* * *

Soul pauses at the foot of the bed and sits down, cradling his head in his hands.

Out of all the things he had expected to come with his father’s appearance, talk about an audition had been the last thing on his mind. He had expected the retribution of being a music teacher because his father despised his career choice even when he pretended to support it. Soul has never been one to be oblivious over his father’s actions and saw right through the congratulatory card the man had sent him upon graduation. 

This isn’t his father’s life, either. It’s Soul’s, and he’ll do whatever he damn well pleases. 

But, out of all the things he didn’t expect, Maka being there for him is definitely one of them.

“Thank you,” he says, glancing up at her. “Thank you for defending me in front of my dad like that. I appreciate it.”

Maka chews on her bottom lip, wrapping on arm around her middle. “Don’t mention it. I didn’t like the way he talked down to you. Thank you for defending me.”

“It was nothing. Guess I didn’t like him talking down on you either.” He sighs. “But it’s like you said, my dad’s a real charmer. He really knows how to talk to people.”

She nods and goes to sit beside him on the bed. “You gonna be okay, though?”

He meets her gaze and gives a weak smile. “Probably not until he’s gone, but I’ll try.”

Silence falls between them. After a minute or two, she places her hand on his knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

“It’s like I told you earlier, though,” she starts, “I’m here for you. We may not be together outside of this week, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. I know how much your dad has had an affect on you in the past.”

“So I take it that means you don’t hate me,” he presses even if he knows it’s futile.

“I wouldn’t go that far. We are still broken up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still be here for you.”

“It was worth a try,” he shrugs. Soul places his hand on top of hers and feels her stiffen beside him, drawing him to remove his hand. “Thank you, though. Seriously. I don’t think I would’ve been able to stand up to him if it weren’t for you being there.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says so quietly he barely hears her.

* * *

Maka has to stifle her laughter as Wes and his grandma get into a heated argument over who can bid what for Soul’s Park Place and Boardwalk. They’ve been going at it for about five minutes, neither one relenting even though Evelyn’s reminded them both no one has landed on those two spaces since Soul bought them, but they don’t care. Both Wes and his gran are determined to buy the two properties from the youngest Evans. Wes even goes as far as to bet real money on it to get Soul to give it to him until Rose chides him about cheating and using  _ only _ play money.

Unless, of course, it’s her doing it.

“I’ll give you a hundred dollars if you give me Park Place and Broadway,” Roses grins. 

“What?!” Wes says, leaning up on the table and almost ruining the Monopoly board. “I thought you said we can’t use real money, Gran! What gives?”

“I said that for you, dearie. It’s fine when I do it. So what do you say, Soul? You want a hundred dollars for those two or what?”

“No!” Wes interjects. “That’s cheating! You can’t do that!”

“Dearie, I’m eighty years old. I can do whatever I damn well please,” Rose says with a crinkly smile.

Next to Maka, Soul hides his face behind his hands leaving only her to witness the fit of giggles he’s in the middle of over his family’s dispute, and it makes her laugh harder. He hasn’t been this carefree and loose all day with the looming presence of his father stalking around the lake house. Especially not after their argument earlier. It’s nice to see him like this, though. He reminds her of the times they used to go out with their friends on the weekends for small get-togethers and would play dumb trivia games or pictionary. Back when Star’s boisterous attitude and determination to win no matter what could crack a smile from Soul of it’s own accord. 

Her heart leaps in her chest when he finally comes up for air. His sanguine eyes are bright and warm as he fondly stares at his family, the corners of them crinkling slightly from the faint laugh lines, and his smile genuine. She loves seeing this side of him so much.

Slowly, she realizes how much she’s missed it these last two months.

“Sorry, Gran, but I think I’m gonna take Wes’s offer. I can go for the yellow pieces on the board instead of a hundred dollars.”

Rose scowls. “Sure. Pick your brother’s side, but I'll remember this the next time you need me for something. I might as well go find myself a new favorite grandchild,” she sniffs. 

“Awe, come one, Gran. You know it's not like that,” Wes says, exchanging the Monopoly spaces with Soul. “We still love you even if you do cheat.”

“It’s not cheating,” she defends. “It’s investing my money where it counts.”

“I wouldn’t advice investing your money in a board game, Rosie,” Evelyn says, patting the elderly woman’s hand. “It’s pointless, and the boys will probably only spend your money on useless things.”

“I don’t care. I want to win,” Rose says. “Maka, do you have anything you’re willing to trade with me for a hundred dollars. How about those red places? Do you need those?”

Maka pulls her red cards back towards and shakes her head. “I don’t need a hundred dollars, but thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Rose says.

Somehow, they aren’t 100% sure how exactly, Rose ends up winning the game of Monopoly. Soul is the first one to go bankrupt after being the unfortunate victim of landing on Park Place followed by Broadway after Wes built a hotel on both spots. It’s Maka who goes bankrupt next followed by Evelyn and leaves Wes and Rose to duke it out between themselves. After much debate and debacle between the pair, it’s the older Evans son who relents and files for bankruptcy in the end, much to Rose’s enjoyment. Maka’s slowly starting to see a pattern within the Evans family and their consistency to bet and win.

Charles’ location during the game is a mystery to her, though. The last time she had seen him, he was holed up in his office on a phone call with someone very important if the tone of his voice was anything to go by. Evelyn had invited her husband to join them, but he waved her off by shutting the door in her face. Maka wasn’t sure how the matriarch of the family managed to deal with the man without wanting to divorce him because if his actions were anything to go by, he didn’t love her. He could give two shits about his family’s well-being. 

Even her papa had been more of a family man when he was cheating on his wife. 

“I had fun playing with your family tonight,” Maka tells Soul as she sits on the edge of the bed and puts her wet hair into a loose braid. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh so much.”

“Family game night can be fun in its own right,” he admits. “I look forward to them when we come out here, to be honest. It reminds me of the families you see in commercials and on TV.”

She diverts her attention from him as he changes out of his shirt and into his pajama shirt. Tonight she decides chiding him for undressing in front of her is off the menu. Besides, it’s not like she hasn’t seen more of him in the past. Their relationship hadn’t exactly been of the abstinence variety, and she knows every inch of his body like the back of her hand. Knows where his birthmark rests on his lower back, the mole on the right side of his hip, the oblique scar on his chest along with the many others on his body faint as they are; she’s seen and touched all of them.

So it’s not like seeing him half-naked is anything new to her. 

Still, she respects his privacy by looking away. They aren’t technically together anymore and seeing him bare feels wrong. 

“You guys have a nice little bond,” she says, turning her attention to him. If she said she isn’t sad to his him with a shirt on, she’d be lying. 

“Even with my dad in the picture,” he snorts.

“A minor aspect about your family, but it doesn’t take away from the majority.”

“Well, thanks.” He makes his way over to the bed and gets under the covers. “No pillows tonight?”

Maka glances at the spot where the pillows she had put the night before are supposed to be and shakes her head. “I figured we can maybe go without them tonight.”

“Cool,” is all he says. “You gonna be up for a bit longer?”

“No. I’m good.”

He nods and turns off the lamp on his side. “Night, Maka.”

“Night, Soul.” She reaches over and turns her own lamp off and buries herself in the covers. 

Without the pillows to guard her from him, she feels the heat of his body seep into the space between them all warm and nice. It’s tempting to turn over and mold her body to his, bury her nose between his shoulderblades and smell the lingering scent of his body wash as she drifts off to sleep. It’s  _ easy _ to go back to who they were as if two months haven’t passed between their breakup and now, she realizes for the uptenth time that day. Her body betrays her as a wave of warmth washes over her, traveling from her chest to her toes, and the happiness she had felt once upon time resurfaces. 

Her closing her eyes, she fights against temptation, and instead listens to Soul’s steady breathing as she falls asleep. 


	5. Falling Slowly... Again

Maka hasn't experienced a more tension filled breakfast in years.

Not since her parents were in the middle of their divorce and trying to keep things normal for her, but she had always known there was something off. Her parents had spoken to each other to curt, too sharp. It has been different than what she was used to for them; their conversations had always maintained a balance between civil and knowing. Mama made too many snide comments about where Papa had been or what whore’s bed he had slept to the point Maka had learned to pinpoint it before she went to breakfast.

Back when she was more nervous about eating a good meal than maintaining her grades.

Now, sitting with the Evans’, Maka feels the tension buzzing off the family surrounding her. Charles sits at the head of the table -- a chair she notes had been vacant for the last two days -- with Rose and Evelyn at either of his side. Wes sits next to his grandmother, across from Soul, and Maka's the oddball out on the end by herself. She notices how different Charles’ mannerisms are compared to his family. The stock stillness of his back as he sits straight in his chair, the air of sophistication when he drinks from his glass, pinky slightly raised, and even the flick of his rest as he reads the paper is calculated. He's the complete opposite of his family, and she wonders how someone like him could be related to everyone else.

More than anything, though, Maka notices the effect his presence has on Soul.

His leg hasn't stopped bouncing since they sat down, and he hasn’t had a bite of his food. She hates how she still knows his habits, feels the anxiety and fear buzzing off him and around his soul, but she pushes that hatred aside because he needs her now more than ever. Exes be damned.

Placing her hand on his knee, she gives him a gentle squeeze. His head whips around, frantic, sanguine eyes meeting hers, and she smiles to help soothe him. It takes a minute for him to return it; a somber, lopsided smile but a smile nonetheless. Maka’s heart yearns to help him even more as her hand slides from his knee to where his own are folded between his legs and threads her fingers with his.

The calloused pads are rough on her smooth skin, but his grip is tight as he holds onto her and her heart twists. She feels bad they’re not together outside of the lake house while at the same time grateful she can be here for him. If she hadn’t come, she doesn’t know if he would’ve managed any of this on his own. Even with the help of Wes, it would’ve been difficult.

“I’m here for you,” she whispers low enough for only him to hear. She licks her lips and takes a steady breath. “No matter what.”

Soul places his other hand on top of hers and pats it. “Thanks.”

Even after the conversation between him and his father the day before, Soul isn’t the most confident person ever and she senses the unease vibrating off his body. There has to be something she can do help calm him.

Glancing out of the window, she notices the sunlight sparkling off the lake outside, so welcoming and bright, and she comes up with a brilliant plan. It may not be much of a distraction, but getting out of the house and away from his father will be enough.

“Do you wanna ditch breakfast and go for a swim?” she asks.

“You brought a bathing suit?” he says, one brow delicately raised.

“You said we were coming to a _lake_ house, so yes. Did you?”

“Not really since we don’t usually go swimming,” he tells her, and it’s Maka’s turn to look confused. How can a family never go _swimming_ at a _lake_ house? As if reading her mind, he says, “We usually do things like hiking or have barbeques or spend time inside. Guess we never really thought about using the lake.”

“That’s absurd,” she whispers more to herself than him.

“I’m sure I can swim in my boxers if that’s fine with you…”

Maka goes to question what he means, but her mind connects the dots in a matter of seconds. Her cheeks burn at the image of Soul being in something so intimate as his boxers which is utterly ridiculous! She’s seen him less before so it won’t be much different than the other times, but still. It feels weird to see him in boxers when she isn’t in the right to see him such little clothing. However, going swimming sounds really nice so screw it.

“It’s fine,” she says to his grinning face.

“You sure you can handle it.” She hates the smugness in his voice and debates whether to punch him or not for it.

Lightly, playfully, she does so in his ribs.

“Don’t act so smug. I can handle you in your boxers, thank you very much.”

“You wanna bet?”

She doesn't say anything as she stands up and excuses them from the table, roughly pushing her chair behind her than necessary. Soul follows her up the stairs and into their bedroom and they get dressed; Maka in the bathroom and him in the bedroom which doesn’t take him very long since all he needs to do is take off his shirt. When she exits the bathroom, she tries to keep her blushing to a minimum but finds it difficult to do so since Soul looks so _good_ shirtless, and it had always been dangerous territory when they were together. The only satisfying thing about the entire ordeal is the shade of rose pink his cheeks turn at the sight of her in her own two piece bikini. Maka considers it a win for herself as she leads the way out of the bedroom and the house to the lake.

Outside, the sun is warm as it beats down on her skin and she stretches her arms to catch more of the rays. It’s such a stark contrast to the cool, air conditioned air inside, and she finds herself enjoying the great outdoors in comparison to it. The sun’s rays are welcoming on her body, the sounds of birds chirping in the distance, and the faint scent of pine wafting in the breeze. They remind her of the summer days her and Soul spent during their college years relaxing and enjoying each others company while they worked as RA’s since neither of them wanted to go home.

Maka’s so wrapped up in the memory and the sun, she doesn’t hear the pounding footsteps on the wood pier behind her until it’s too late. She lets out a yelp for help as Soul’s arms grip around her and he throws them both into the lake. Salt water stings her tongue since she didn’t think to close her mouth before they hit the surface, and she kicks herself away from the boy as she swims to get some air. The cool breeze slaps against her skin when she resurfaces, coming her out of her face and scouring around her for the boy in question. His laughter reaches her ears before she pinpoints where he’s at.

“Soul!” she shrieks, slapping water at him as he swims closer. “Why didn’t you warn me before you did that?!”

“Because it wouldn’t have been funny!” he defends.

“So?! It would have been nice for you to tell me what you were going to do!”

“Come on, Maka! It was fun, admit it.”

Her attempts at pouting and glaring at him prove to be useless. His wide grin is contagious as she feels her own mouth echo it, and a bubble of laughter rises from deep within her and fills the air between them. Soul lightly splashes water at her, his sanguine eyes shining with mirth, and she does the same until they’re battling to see who can get who the wettest. Maka’s the first to relent, though, as she disappears below the water to make her way over to his confused blur and jumps behind him to dunk him in the water like he had done moments before.

When he comes back up, he shakes his hair out, laughter and merriment clear on his face, before swimming to her to do the same. She’s quick, though, as she disappears below the surface once again only to have him do the same. He swims over to her, legs spreading behind him like a frogs, and Maka smiles as she tries to get away to no avail. Soul’s arms wrap around her middle and drag her back to the surface where he gives her the joy of getting some air before dunking her back into the water.

It’s the first time in a long time she remembers having this much fun with him.

So carefree and wonderful.

Tingles travel over her skin each time her grabs her, touches her, and her heartbeat either grows faster from the adrenaline of playing in the water or the mere feel of his hands around her bare skin again. She isn’t entirely sure, but which ever it is, she doesn’t wish for it to end any time soon. A part of her is scared to admit it, but she’s slowly falling for Soul all over again as if she never loved him before, before all of this madness and the proposition. As if her heart hasn’t stopped loving him from afar these last two months, and it scares her.

* * *

Maka’s body is strong and taut in his grip as he guides her around the lake refusing to let go even when she squirms and playfully swats at him. The smile on her face tells him she doesn’t mean any ill by it and is having fun. It’s the first time in a long time he remembers her laughing and smiling so much let alone himself. With the unexpected arrival of his father, he had thought the rest of the week would go to shitsville and be the worst, but he should have known better with Maka around.

She always had the ability to make him smile even on his toughest days.

“Okay, okay,” she gasps, “let me breath real quick.”

Her hand on his chest halts him from dunking in the water once again, his heartbeat quickening in his chest, and he waits for her to catch her breathe. His gaze drifts down to her chest, the skin around her breasts flushed. He feels his own cheeks burn at the perverted thoughts that come to mind as he turns his gaze skyward and thinks of everything save for the bikini clad girl in his arms. It’s not like he hasn’t seen her anything less before. She used to parade around the apartment in her underwear all the time before they had sex or naked afterward even. This is nothing new.

He can handle this.

A grown ass man like him in his twenties? He can contain his urges and desires for the sake of human decency.

Maybe.

“I’m good now,” Maka sighs.

She turns in his arms, and Soul realizes how close they are immediately. How close her lips are to his, her green eyes wide and expressive as she stares at him. He swears he feels her heart a distant echo against his own beating heart, but the initial shock of them being in the water together disappears as she relaxes in his grasp, her hands curling into fists against him. Her gaze travels along his face, the dreamy look slowly appearing beneath them, and Soul feels his own expression relax.

For a brief second, he swears her hands flatten on his chest and slide up to his throat and sees her bite her lip. The distance between them isn’t far, and he thinks maybe if he leans in closer and waits she’ll do it to. There isn’t a doubt in his mind that won’t happen.

Soul’s about to do it too before they're interrupted by a loud shriek from the pier and someone jumping into the water near them, splashing water all over the pair. The reverie that had fallen between them is broken as Maka pushes herself and shakes the water off her to glare at their new company. All Soul sees is the blonde mop of hair swishing in the wind before he growls out his brother’s name.

“ _Wes_.”

His brother lays flat on his back and floats around them, the corners of his grin barely visible. “If I had known you two were going to come out for a swim, I would have joined you guys earlier.”

“Maybe we didn’t invite you for a reason. Ever think about that?” Soul says, his tone harsher than intended.

Maka gives him an apologetic look, but he can’t place where the distant look in her face comes from.

“Soul told me you guys rarely come swimming so I didn’t think you’d have anything--please don’t tell me you’re in your boxers as well,” she says, her voice growing smaller as her eyes widen in fear.

“What if I told you two I came naked,” Wes waggles his brows.

“No one wants to see your small dick, Wesley.”

“Awe, come on, little brother. We all know you’re the one who has the smallest dick here,” his brother grins. “Right, Maka?”

Bracing himself for the insult, Soul diverts his attention away from Maka, but is surprised when she doesn’t say anything. He spares her a quick glance to see a the beginnings of a blush dusting her cheeks as she too avoids eye contact with both him and Wes. It doesn’t last long, though, as she smiles towards his brother, the award-winning grin that can rival even his brother’s sparkling one.

“I think Soul’s a pretty big competition, if you ask me.”

Shocked is an understatement as Soul gaps at his ex-girlfriend.

Wes’s face changes from chagrin to confusion to disappointment in the span of a handful of seconds before he splashes water in his brother’s face in retribution. Soul reprimands him for doing so because he’s not the one who insulted Wes’s manhood, but his brother claims he can’t get a girl wet… especially when said girl is dating his brother. The waggling brows is enough to tell Soul the double meaning beneath his brother’s words, and he decides to retaliate by splashing water at him which leads into a water war.

They only last another thirty minutes or so in the water while his parents stay inside doing whatever. It isn’t until Wes suggests they go inside and play some video games Soul realizes his brother came out for a distraction exactly like him. The big hint is the argument raging on behind his father’s closed office door, his mother’s voice low and sharp as she discusses something with him while his father’s maintains the same cool. Even so, as they pass by the door, Soul can feel the tension behind the door; the thickness of it practically suffocating.

It doesn’t help when Maka gives him a sorrowful look as his name is exchanged on the other side, but he ignores it and pushes her forward. His parents aren’t going to ruin the last week he has with the girl he’s madly in love. He’ll gladly leave that job to Wes and his mad cockblocking skills.

* * *

“Oh! Oh! Pon Pon Pon! Can we do that one?” Maka practically squeals as Wes bypasses the song.

Soul snorts from his position on the couch and scoots further down the cushion. “‘Course you’d pick that song. That's the only dance you know how to do. Not well since your rhythm is shitty as fuck. Pretty sure my toes are still healing from the last time we danced together. Two years ago.”

Glaring at him over her shoulder, Maka purses her lips and says, “Watch it, or I'll make sure your toes never heal for the rest of your life.”

“No need to be so aggressive, Maka.”

“And there's no need for you to be such an ass yet here you are.”

“Children, settle down,” Wes chimes in, swiping his hand on Maka’s song request. “There will be zero fighting on this vacation. We’re here to have fun.”

“Some of us, at least,” Maka mutters.

“For what it's worth, I think you're a fine dancer,” Wes says with a smile.

“Thank you.” She returns the smile before sticking her tongue out at Soul who snorts at her immaturity.

He briefly toys with the idea of standing up and kissing her, telling her he was only teasing, but rejects it completely. They're exes, and exes aren't meant to kiss each other on a whim like old times. Those days are behind him. His only chances of kissing Maka are reserved for times when situations call for them to be a couple. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then again, the line for those situations is so thin he can pull the card out whenever he pleases. So long as it's in front of his family, right?

Before he can get up to execute his plan, though, Wes and Maka begin.

Between the two of them, Maka’s the one who gets into it the most which isn’t surprising to Soul given the amount of times she’s done the dance in the years they’ve known each other. It’s one of her favorites and about the only choreographed dance she has a good rhythm for. So it doesn’t throw him off how well Maka’s able to execute the dance better than Wes who’s a fumbling mess beside her tripping on his own two feet.

His mouth tucks up into a smile when Maka’s laugh twinkles in the living room.

It’s light and carefree and genuine; the first time he’s heard her laugh in over a month. A warmth seeps over his heart, spreading throughout his chest until it reaches the nape of his throat and shoulders where it continues to spread. He remembers brighter times before the break up when they would laze around in their apartment with her legs draped over his watching a cheesy Hallmark movie because it’s the only thing on TV. The same laugh filling their living room. The feel of her lips on his as she gently kisses him, small hands cradling his cheek.

The memory strums the beginning of a familiar song in his heart. A song that's been playing since the day they met.

Wes and Maka finish the song and clap hands while the game announces the winner which ends up being the latter.

“GG,” Wes says to her.

“GG,” she says before turning to face Soul with her hands on her hips, chest puffed out, and a smug grin. “See, I can dance.”

Soul smirks and debates on teasing her for a bit, but dismisses the thought. He isn't much in the mood to tick her off right now as much as he is for kissing her.

“Guess you're good at dancing to _one_ song,” he says.

She must not have been expecting that because her arms drop to her side as she blinks at him. Even Wes gives him a questioning look.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You don't usually admit defeat that easily.”

“I'm fine.”

Telling her the truth isn't his best option. The last thing Maka Albarn wants to hear is him confessing how in love he is with her still and wishes their fake relationship would last longer than a week. She'll Maka Chop him into oblivion for that.

“I'm gonna get some water,” he says, standing up from his position on the couch. “You two want anything?”

“Nah, I'm good,” Wes says.

He nods for Maka’s response, but she only continues to stare at him.

Sighing, he walks over to her, shielding her from view of his brother with his body, and crosses the line that separates them from exes to a couple. His hand curls around one of her low braids, gently sliding down on it until he reaches the end where it lingers a moment too long. Her breath hitches at his touch, and he’s sure she's about to smack him for being so close but it never comes. Soul studies her blonde lashes framing bright green eyes, slightly parted cracked lips begging to be kissed, and the color slowly staining her cheeks. Maka's even more beautiful than he remembers her which makes this a dangerous game he's playing because he only has two options here.

Either he can go in for a kiss or leave it as is.

They stand there for seconds, though it feels like hours doing nothing except waiting for the other to do _something_. Soul feels his brother’s eyes boring into his back as he no doubt waits on bated breath to see what'll happen. Unfortunate for Wes, Soul opts with kissing Maka's forehead rather than her lips since it's the safest orifice and he's an entirely selfish human being who craves the feel of her skin again.

“You're the best Pon Pon Pon dancer,” he whispers to her in hopes she'll believe him. “And I'm not saying that to be mean. I really mean it.”

Soul let's go of her hair and heads in the direction of the kitchen. His lips and hands burn with the sensation of touching her; a warm, good feeling he missed so dearly since their break-up. He wants to go back into the living room and ask if she'll follow him to their bedroom so he can place his lips on more than just her forehead, but he doesn't. It was enough for now. Too much affection and he’ll surely scare her away.

 _We are supposed to be broken up after all_ , he reminds himself.

* * *

Maka stands there in the living room for a minute or two completely baffled by what happened. Her forehead burns where Soul had kissed her, but it isn't a gross or unwanted feeling. It melts her into a warm puddle of want and desire to feel his touch on more than just her _forehead_. It's silly to think about, really, after pushing her hate onto him for so long, but the slight tingle and warmth spreading over her is enough to tell her it isn't. Rather, it's a furious need to be with him she hadn't felt before. She doesn't know whether to be embarrassed by it or act on it, though.

Especially considering why she had broken up with him in the first place.

“Aww,” Wes coos from beside her, and her blush deepens. “How sweet and nauseating at the same time. My brother’s a real romantic sap underneath all that self-pity and cool guy bullshit, huh?”

Her smile is weak and shaky as she says, “You don't know the half of it.”

She doesn't know how to confine in Wes about their breakup and how unbidden the kiss had been. How honest and true it had been because he wouldn't have it done otherwise which makes things worse. Far worse as far as she's concerned. The kiss is more than just a _kiss_ to her; it's an expression of how he truly feels about her. Soul’s actions are a direct reflection of when she had wanted to kiss him in the lake earlier except he had gone through it.

“Well, go on,” Wes says, breaking through her thoughts. “Go and make out with my baby brother in the kitchen. I'll cover for you in case anyone comes to walk in on you two.”

The wink Wes gives her is entirely uncalled for, and she scowls at before following Soul into the kitchen. She stands outside the entrance way for a minute bracing herself for what to do because there are other things they need to discuss that Wes doesn't know about surrounding what had just happened. It scares her to think she'll be breaking Soul’s heart again at the end of the week, and she hasn't decided if she wants that or not quite yet.

“Soul,” Maka starts as she enters the question. Soul turns around to glance at her, his eyes wide as he nibbles on a cheese stick. “I think we need to talk about what just happened.”

He shrugs. “What's there to talk about? I kissed you in front of my brother. What else is there?”

“For starters, maybe explain why you kissed me like that?”

“I thought we agreed to do things in front of my family to keep them believing we’re together, so that's what I did.”

His nonchalant attitude perturbes her more than it should. She should be happy he isn't bothered by their show of affection since that had been the plan all along. Pretend to still be together while not falling for the other or crossing any lines into dangerous territories. She should be glad Soul is so relaxed over something as simple as kiss given everything behind the scenes, but in truth, she isn't.

“Yeah, but why did you decide to do it now? You haven't done anything except kiss my cheek the past few days, and now you're just going to kiss my forehead?”

“It's your forehead, Maka. I didn't kiss you on the lips, so what's the big deal?”

Puffing out her cheeks, she stomps her foot and says, “The big deal is the fact you did it without telling me!”

“That doesn't make any sense,” he says. “You've kissed me on the cheek plenty of times since we got here without telling me. Pretty sexist of you if you ask me.”

“That's not the point,” she growls.

“Then what is, Maka? Because right now you're making zero sense which is pretty fucking annoying.”

“I want to know _why_ you kissed me like that? What made you walk up to me and just press your mouth to my forehead?”

“Why? Because I thought you looked cute dancing with my brother to a lame ass song and figured it'd be appropriate to kiss my _girlfriend_ afterward. You know, to keep up this whole game we’re playing here.”

Maka opens her mouth to comment further, but snaps it shut and fumes, folding her arms in front of her. She hates the bag of mixed emotions swirling within her, how she doesn't know if she still wants to be with Soul or not, or if she even still loves him. Actually, the latter is plain and obvious to her. Of course she still loves him. If she didn't, she wouldn't be acting this way in front of him which makes matters worse. This trip isn't supposed to make her fall in love with Soul again; it was meant to be a favor to him to cover his ass on a lie he was too scared to admit to.

Now her emotions are making things so _complicated_ , and she hates it.

The sound of Wes whistling draws Maka out of her thoughts, and she whips around to see him making his way to the kitchen. Considering he thinks she came to make out with his brother more, she figures them arguing won't do any good so she makes the quick decision to walk around the island towards Soul. Red eyes widen as she takes the cheese stick out of his mouth, regretting she's about to taste it on his tongue, and presses her lips to his.

At first, Soul doesn't react. His body is stiff and unmoving beneath her and she silently prays he isn't a complete and idiot and hurried up to do _something_. She doesn't think Wes witnessing Maka forcibly kissing his brother will be good for their rouse.

As if reading her mind, Soul places his hands on her hips and pulls her in closer to him and returns the kiss. She practically melts at the feel of his lips moving against hers as her arms wrap around his neck, and she finds the secondhand taste of cheese to not be as bad as she had expected. The kiss itself is languid and slow, reminiscent of the ones they've shared countless times before during their relationship, and she moans when he kisses her back.

A warm liquid of want pools in her lower abdomen when something hard pokes her stomach, but she chooses to ignore it. Blames it on the fact he probably hasn't kissed another girl between their breakup and now. Getting turned on by a simple kiss is natural after being deprived of it for so long. At least, that's what she tells herself to excuse her own body’s reaction to the kiss.

It isn't until they hear Wes’s sharp gasp they finally break apart, Maka holding Soul’s cheese stick out to the side and staring wide eyed at the elder Evans brother. The cheeky grin he gives them sends a blush to burn against her face as she hands Soul’s snack back to him before smoothing out her shirt. She spares her ex-boyfriend a glance to read his own face, but only sees disappointment dancing behind his eyes when he takes a bite of the cheese.

“Sorry for barging in on you two like that,” Wes says, slowly stalking out of the kitchen. “Probably should’ve knocked, huh?”

“Nah. It’s cool,” Soul mumbles. “Shouldn’t have been making out when we know the family is still here.”

“You two are lucky it as me who walked in and not Gran. Probably would’ve given the poor woman a heart attack with how steamy that make out session was getting,” Wes winks.

If Maka's blush hadn't been deep before, it definitely is now.

“I'll leave you two be, then.” Wes grabs an apple on his way out of the kitchen and takes a bite. “I'll be waiting to rematch you, Maka.”

“I'll be there in a minute,” she manages to say.

“Oh, no. Take all the time you need. Hell, sneak up to your room for a little romance under the sheets, if you catch my drift.”

“Wes,” Soul growls in warning.

“Bye you two love birds,” Wes sing songs as he makes his way out of the kitchen followed by a boisterous laugh.

Once she’s sure he’s gone, Maka spares Soul a glance and has the decency to give him an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry about--”

“Could’ve warned me,” Soul tells her, the mirth and joy from earlier gone in his gaze. “I don’t like being kissed against my permission like that.”

The sting of his words is well worth it, but she still cringes. Maybe she had overreacted a bit earlier, but he doesn’t even know the half of it. He doesn’t know she’s struggling with what her mind reminds her and what her heart keeps begging for; he doesn’t know there’s a war raging on within her between betrayal and want and love and hate. Soul’s completely clueless to all of it which she guesses is her own fault. She hasn’t exactly been entirely truthful with him since coming to the lake house. How is he supposed to know she still loves him when all he knows is that the week is going to end with them fake breaking up and her stabbing him in the heart again?

“Soul, there’s something I want to--”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t need you to remind me,” he cuts in. “The kiss meant nothing, I know. We’re still broken up at the end of the week like you’ve said countless of times before. I know. I understand.”

He goes to take another bite of his cheese stick, but shakes his head and throws it in the trash.

“I’m gonna go up to our room. I need to… be alone for a bit. Tell my brother I have headache or something. I’ll see you at dinner or later tonight.”

Soul exits the kitchen before she can stop.

Leaning on the counter behind her, she sighs. It’s going to be a little more difficult for her to tell him she’s changed her mind about everything and wants to come clean about why she had broken up with him. Soul isn’t usually a hard-headed person, at least not as hard-headed as she can be, but when he refuses to listen to someone, he’s pretty strong on unwavering against it.

* * *

Collapsing on top of the bed, Soul covers his eyes with his arms and waits for his beating heart to calm down. It isn’t enough for Maka to break things with him, but her kissing him on the lips is probably crossing the line when it deals with love and broken hearts. He can’t really fault her, though. How is she supposed to know he’s still in love with her when he hasn’t been wholly honest throughout this entire experience? How is she supposed to know his heart still yearns for her and jumps at every opportunity to kiss when he hasn’t told her exactly in so many words?

She can’t know because they’re exes.

Maka ended things with him for a reason.

A reason he suspects must have been a pretty important one because their love and relationship was the last thing he had expected her to give up on. They were meant to last forever, as cliche and uncool as that is for him to admit. Out of everyone around them, they were the two who were supposed to last and be soulmates like Black*Star had put it when he showed up at his apartment two months ago. That’s probably when he should’ve fought to stay with Maka; back when Star had pushed him to do so.

 _Cool guys don’t let their princesses walk away_ , Black*Star had told him. _Cool guys are supposed to fight for their girl and prove their undying love them_.

Maybe Soul isn’t as cool as he had once believed himself to be back in middle school because the last thing he wants is to force a relationship onto Maka. Even if he loves her and would jump at the chance to be with her again, he can’t force into it. If Maka wants to be with him, she has to do so on her own. Without Soul crawling on bended knee and doing everything within his power to win her heart back. That isn’t the type of man he’s been raised to be. He respects Maka and her ability to make her own decisions and he’ll abide by that until the end of time.

Even when doing so is _complicated_.

* * *

Soul doesn’t appear for dinner much to Maka’s disappointment. His mom and grandmother ask her where he’s at, and she covers his butt by telling them he got a little sick from playing out in the lake earlier. The only one at the table who doesn’t seem to believe is Wes. His brows knit in confusion as he stares at her afterwards, the question of how he got sick dancing on the edge of his tongue, but he decides not to front her out as he returns to his dinner.

Before heading upstairs to bed, Maka prepares a little plate for her ex-boyfriend and takes it to him because knowing Soul he’ll be starving whether he’s sick or not. She returns to their bedroom to find Soul fast asleep on the bed still in his day clothes. Sighing, she places the plate of food on the dresser and walks over to wake him up.

“Soul,” she says barely above a whisper and shakes his shoulder. He doesn’t budge. Louder and with a harder shove, she says, “Soul. Wake up.”

His head rises off the pillow, red peeking through his white lashes, and he mutters something incomprehensible.

“Soul,” she says again. “Wake up. You slept through dinner. Soul!”

It takes another couple tries before he fully wakes up, rolling onto his bed and stretching out across the length of the mattress.

“What time is it?” he groggily says, his eyes blearily searching the room.

“It’s close to nine,” she tells him as she slides off the bed to where his food is. “You missed dinner, but you something to eat since I figured you didn’t want to come downstairs.”

At the sound of food, Soul’s stomach growls and he sits bolt straight in bed, his eyes wide and blinking as he reaches out for the plate. He doesn’t waste a minute to scarf down the food, muttering his thanks in-between bites, though, it’s drowned out with his chewing. Maka excuses herself to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and when she returns, she finds him dressed in his pajamas and already wrapped under the blankets. His clean plate is nowhere to seen which is slightly unsettling since she hadn’t heard the door open for him to take it downstairs.

“What’d you do with your plate?” she asks.

“I took it down to the kitchen.”

“I didn’t hear you leave.”

“You probably didn’t notice,” he waves off. “But it’s down there in the sink. I didn’t leave it in here like I’m sure you’re assuming right now.”

She doesn’t say anything as she turns off her lamp and buries herself into the covers to get ready to go to bed, but something about the whole thing feels off. Like something from the day is still left unsaid between them, and it takes her a minute or two more than necessary to work up the courage to turn over and face Soul.

“Hey, you still awake?” she whispers to his back.

It takes him several seconds, but he finally turns to look at her. The faint moonlight outside reflects in his eyes, highlights the rifts of hair laying on the pillows, and it feels so intimate. Her heart races at the gruffness of his voice as he asks what's up, and Maka licks her lips before she speaks.

“I'm sorry for overreacting earlier,” she whispers. “I don't know what got over me, but it was entirely uncalled for. I'm sorry.”

For a second she assumes he's going to ignore her and roll over without accepting or refusing her apology, but then he flips over to face her and she sees the ghost of a smile dance on his face as he says, “I'm sorry for being bitter about it. I don't know what got over me, ether.”

“It's okay.”

They fall silent save for the sheets moving as Soul puts his hand in the space between them, and Maka makes the bold move to place her's on top of his. Her heart jumps into her throats at the feel of his thumb brushing against her palm. The last thing she remembers is the feel of his lips pressed against her forehead, but in the morning, she puts it up to wishful thinking and her mind playing tricks on her.


	6. How Long Will I Love You

The next morning Maka wakes to a tangle of limbs and she can't figure out where she ends and Soul begins. She’s too afraid to move, though, in fear she’ll wake her ex-boyfriend who’s still sound asleep across from her, a little sightful of drool dripping onto his pillow and his morning breath lingering on every snore he throws in her face. For all intents and purposes, it should be unsettling and unromantic, but she finds it slightly endearing in a way only someone who can love another person can see fit. Her fingers tingle with the desire to brush along his face and her lips crave the feel of his skin on them, but she holds herself back.

Even with the dull grey light shining in through their windows and highlighting his features in shades of darkness, she holds herself back from touching him. Even if his legs are tangled with her own and his arms are wrapped around her middle, she doesn’t reach out to touch him.

It feels like an invasion of privacy, like she’ll be entering into a territory she isn’t welcomed into anymore, and as much as it hurts, she knows she has to hold herself back. Soul hasn’t been her boyfriend for quite some time now, and she’s fine with that. Her heart beats to a different storyline than the one her brain keeps reminding her of, but she can’t give into temptation. She loves this boy and admires him deeply, but she can’t kiss him until he knows the truth. Until  _ she _ knows the truth.

And that’s the only line standing between them. The line between truth and fantasy; the line that can give her all the answers to the questions her mind has been replaying for months. Who is she to him? Why did he go out with her? Why did he break her hurt in ways she trusted him not to? How does he face himself in the morning knowing what he did?

Yet, she doesn’t ask any of these things in fear of the what if’s and answers she’ll receive.

She doesn’t think she can handle another heartbreak.

Sighing, Maka carefully untangles herself from Soul’s grasp and rolls off the bed and sits on the edge to stretch out her tired limbs before heading into the bathroom. She goes through her normal bathroom routine -- using the toilet, brushing her teeth, straightening out her tangled hair -- before re-entering the bedroom to find Soul lazily staring up at the ceiling. It’s peculiar and strange to see him up so early, but she doesn’t question him. He has his own reasons for being awake which more than likely has something to do with her getting up first, and she has a feeling he didn’t sleep very well if he didn’t sleep through that. Soul’s notorious for sleeping through anything.

“Good morning,” Maka says cheerily.

Soul’s lazy eyes turn to her, they’re a dark red this morning, and tries to stifle a yawn but fails in the end. He stretches and moans at the ache from his muscles, smacking his lips as he rubs his hand down his face to help him wake up before he answers her. His voice is still scratchy from sleep, and it brings a chill down her spine at the sound of it, set s a cool warmth to pool in her lower abdomen, but she ignores it as she makes her way over to her suitcase for a clean pair of clothes for the day. It isn’t until Soul comments about the weather outside she finally realizes why there’s no sun.

“I wouldn’t bother putting anything fancy on,” he says. “It’s raining so I doubt we’ll be able to do much today.”

She glances out the nearest window to confirm this and pouts. “I was hoping we could go do some exploring today. Or at least, just me since I know you hate nature.”

“I would’ve gone with you.”

Maka highly doubts that, but doesn’t say as much.

“I guess I can spend the rest of the day reading,” she mumbles to herself.

Digging out a pair of sweatpants she had packed for herself and an old comfy shirt, she realizes too late once belonged to Soul. She guesses she’s forever cursed to have his clothes in her possession since she had once upon time stolen a good majority of them. It had been one of the perks dating a boy who was two sizes bigger than her and whose shirts and pants swallowed her up in the most comfortable way. And if Soul had stared at her with a far away look in his eyes, a special, possessive gleam he reserved for only her that set her heart aflame, then all the better.

“Why waste the day away with reading?” Soul grumbles from the bed, and she thinks there’s a tinge of jealousy in his tone.

It doesn’t make sense, though, for him to be jealous of a  _ book _ , but if living with him for two years has proved anything to her, it’s that Soul is an attention hog. He always did have a habit of bitching and moaning when she chose to read a book over spending time cuddling with him. But why he would find now to be an ideal time to do so is beyond her. Maybe old habits die hard.

“What did you have in mind, then?” she asks turning to face him.

“I think mine and Wes’s old PlayStation is still here and working.”

“Tempting. What kind of games are there to play for two people, though?”

He shrugs. “We can take turns playing Crash Bandicoot. If you want, of course. I know how much you enjoy reading over playing  _ video games _ .”

Soul says it with enough teasing in his voice for Maka to smile and shake her head at him.

“I'll have you know I used to play Pokémon when I was a kid, and I might still have a 3DS lying around  _ somewhere _ , too.”

The look he gives her incredulous as he says, “I'm pretty sure if you had one of those I'd know about since I used to live with you, and I don't recall you ever pulling out any kinda video game. Ever. Especially not a 3DS.”

Maka shrugs. “Who says I didn't play it when you left?”

“Maka, you don't have a 3DS just admit it. You've never even played a single video game.”

“That sounds like you're challenging me,” she says.

“What if I am?”

“Then I'll take the challenge and prove you wrong,” she says, sticking her tongue out. “I'm sure I can play Crash Bandicoot and get a higher score than you.”

“Do you even know what Crash Bandicoot is?”

“No, but I can learn,” she defends. Soul gives a haughty laugh and smiles. “Let me change, and we can go downstairs. What else is there to do anyways?”

“You mean other than losing to me?” he says as she enters the bathroom.

Before she closes the door, she says, “You'll see how good I can be at video games,  _ Evans _ .”

“Whatever,  _ Albarn _ .”

* * *

After they eat a quick breakfast and Soul makes them each a cup of coffee, they set up a space in the living room in front of the TV to play on the old PlayStation. It's edges are worn from wear and tear, a few scratches on the gray coloring, but it still works which is incredibly given how long ago the console had come out. The machine takes a minute or two or five to boot up, but when t finally comes to life, the old, familiar logo playing on the screen setting fond memories to resurface in Soul’s mind, the picture is smooth and clean. Well, as clean as something from the 90’s can be which isn't much given today's standards in video games.

Still, it doesn't take away from the experience.

“It plays kinda slow, don't you think?” Maka says when the loading screen for the game comes up.

“It's part of the classic feel, Maka,” Soul tells her. “‘Sides, the game works which is the important part about this whole thing. We’d be shit out of luck with boredom if it didn't work.”

“Only one of us would be bored out of their mind,” she reminds him, and he scowls.

“Reading a book isn't as great as you make it out to be,” he chides.

“Maybe not to someone like you, but to someone like me, it's very entertaining.”

“You've read that book about a hundred times already, though. Aren't you tired of it yet?”

“Nope. I can read it another hundred times, and I'll still enjoy every last bit of it.”

Soul doesn't comment as he takes a handful of the popcorn she had popped and stuffs into his mouth. It's not the best snack in the world, but it'll do he supposes. Definitely beats eating the grapes he had found in the fridge that Maka had suggested instead of the buttery goodness. He’ll go for fattening foods any day of the week over something healthy. Something Maka had been quick to comment on, but he only rolled his eyes and handed her the popcorn bag.

“Anyways, to play this game you gotta take the little bandicoot there and get him from one side of the map to the other side. It's pretty simple,” he shrugs. “Even a bookworm like yourself can figure it out with ease.”

“Okay, but what are the controls?”

He leans over to her, the heat of her body wrapping around him like an old blanket and he swallows the butterflies fluttering around his stomach as he shows which button is jump and which one she uses to spin. It's so mundane and simple to be sitting with her like this, so much like how they used to live in their apartment together. Spending time with Maka and teaching her new things had always been a favorite aspect about their relationship to him. She's such a curious girl who's willing to learn about the things he's into and likewise for himself.

That's how he had read through the entire Harry Potter series because she couldn't stop gushing to him about the final book when it had come out during college, and the disappointment in her face when he admitted he only watched the movies had encouraged him to buy the entire series. Needless to say, he had read them all in the span of week during summer break and came back from it dead tired, but Maka had seemed to like he read the book series for her.

“Can I see you play first?” she asks, handing him the controller back.

“What? You scared you'll fuck up your first time out?”

“No,” she says, “I’d just prefer if you played first so I can get the hang of it.”

“You're scared. Admit it.”

“I am not.” She lightly kicks him with her foot and smiles. “I want to see you play first, that's all.”

Soul returns her smile and rolls his eyes, but starts the game regardless. It’s a pretty basic game anyone with half a brain can figure out. All the basics someone needs to know is which enemies to avoid, which boxes to hit, and when to spin the game character on the screen. Pretty simple stuff, but Maka leave it to Maka to question him about certain aspects of the game. Ever the logical girl.

“What is a bandicoot?” she asks when Soul finishes the first level.

“Dunno. I think it’s some kinda animal in Australia or something.”

“It doesn’t make sense for him to be running around these different maps looking for apples, though.”

“Would you rather he stay in the wild and live out his animal life that way?”

“Yes, I would. It would make more sense than this game, at least.”

“Maka, I thought you said you played Pokémon?”

“I did.”

“And did you ever question it like you’re questioning this game?”

“Yes, but maybe not to the same degree since Pokémon was a little more straightforward and it wasn’t real. A bandicoot is a real animal.”

“Then pretend it’s a character who needs to save the world,” Soul tells her. “It’s not that hard.”

Maka seems to mull it over for a minute, but shakes her head as she takes the controller from him. “It still wouldn’t make much sense. Why is it up to this animal to travel these different islands, break boxes, and collect apples? Who decided to desert him on these islands in the first place? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot to bring my copy of ‘The Entire Backstory of Crash Bandicoot’.”

She gives him a half-hearted glare. “That’s not funny.”

“Yeah it is,” he says, and it brings more joy than anything as she returns his smile.

* * *

Maka draws her attention away from Soul and Maka to the TV as the new map she had started begins. It’s a little difficult at first controlling the character on screen since she isn’t used to it, but she gets the hang of it after the fifth time she dies much to Soul’s chagrin. The sound of raining lightly beats against the window outside creating a very serene and calming aura around the room as they sit there in the living room, and she’s reminded of the times they spent together in their apartment on rainy days. Back when Soul would watch whatever new show he was into on Netflix and laid on his chest reading her latest book of the week.

It’s so mundane, but at the same time nice to be with Soul like this.

Her heart tugs at the thought. The memory of the times they spent in their apartment washing over her, and an unsettling discomfort rests the pit of her belly. It's a weird emotion being melancholy and nostalgic about the past, but she tries to bear with it as she guides the bandicoot on screen past enemies and destroys various boxes. She feels Soul nod his head impressed how quickly she learns the general gist of the game, and her heart warms at the sweetness behind his words.

“You're better than I expected you to be,” he says.

“Thank you,” she smiles. “But I don't think I wanna play anymore.”

His face falls at her words as he says, “Why not?”

“I think I'd rather watch you play. The rain is kinda getting to me, and I just wanna be lazy for a bit if that's okay.”

“Yeah, sure,” Soul says.

Maka's heartbeat quickens as her next words dance on the tip of her tongue, her finger scratching at the blue carpet underneath them, and bides her time until Soul settles on a new map for himself to play on. She swallows her pride and makes the leap.

“Do you mind if I just lay on top of you? Like old times?”

She watches his face to see his reaction to her question. It changes from indifference to surprise to shock as he turns to stare at her, but he seems to give in as he nods and opens his arms for her to settle between him. They've been apart for two months, but she still manages to fit perfectly against him, his steady heartbeat a sweet melody against her ears and his breathing only slightly off kilter. But it's comfortable, easy, and she enjoys being there a little more than she deems appropriate.

At the same time, though, she doesn't much care. It's exactly like old times being on top of him like this, so chaste and sweet and pleasant. Even when he runs his hand through her hair in-between matches, she finds herself slowly drifting off to sleep.

“Is this okay?” she whispers on the fifth time he finishes a map. “Is being like this?”

“None of my family’s around to us, but I think so. It's be nice of them to see us like this. It'll make them think the best which is good.”

“Yeah.” Her hand curls on his chest as she fights back the pain that surfaces within her.  

“But remember we’re supposed to be on the verge of a breakup like we had planned,” he says, breaking the serene calm she felt moments before.

Truth be told, she had forgotten about the pretend breakup for a moment there.

“So,” he continues, “maybe this isn't the best way for them to see us if we’re supposed to fake breakup soon?”

“Do you want me to move?” she asks.

Silence falls between them in which Maka tells herself not to get her hopes up because it's too long of a pause for such a simple question. Either Soul wants her to get off him and he's saving her the pain from answering or he doesn't want her to get off and saving himself the pain of losing her. She isn’t entirely sure which one it can be, but as the seconds tick by she starts to think it’s best she doesn’t find out what his answer is because she won’t be able to handle the truth which ever it is. Both choices are sad and melancholy given the outcome of the week. The longer she spends with Soul, the more she doesn’t want to let him go and it becomes ever difficult.

_ Everything’s so complicated _ , she says for what feels like the fifth time that week.

Finally, after what feels like hours, Soul responds.

“You can stay if you want. I don’t mind.”

It’s funny how one simple response can bring a smile to her face. She buries her face against his chest to hide the stupid grin on her face and focuses on keeping her breathing in time with his own.

The rain outside pelts against the pane of the glass, and the last thing Maka remembers is the feel of Soul’s hand on her hip as she falls asleep on him.

* * *

He doesn’t remember when he had fallen asleep, but when he wakes up, it’s to the feel of something jabbing him in the side and his brother’s irritating voice calling his name.

“Soul,” Wes coos. “Oh, Soul. Wake up, Soul. Don’t want Gran and Mom to come in here to see you consummating our living room with your girlfriend, do we?”

Groaning, Soul swats at his brother’s legs but misses which only makes Wes laugh. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I came downstairs to find you and your girlfriend asleep on each other so, being the kind brother I am, I decide to wake you up before someone else comes and finds you two, and this is the thanks you give me? Well, that’s the last time I do something out of the kindness of my heart.”

“When have you ever been kind?” Soul groggily asks.

“I was for a moment tonight, but since you’re so unappreciative, I guess I’ll never be kind ever again.”

“What ever.”

Soul raises his hands to rub the sleep from his eyes, but finds the right one pinned underneath someone’s arm. Looking down, he comes face to face with ash blonde hair and Maka’s sleeping form resting on top of him much to his surprise and he wracks through his brain to figure out how and when this had happened. He remembers her not wanting to play the game anymore and handing the controller back to him followed by her asking to lay on top of him like they used to at the apartment. It’s the only reason he had agreed to letting her do it, he remembers.

Technically there were other reasons (selfish reasons, but reasons nonetheless), but he’ll never admit them to Maka.

“Shit,” Soul breathes out when everything stops being a big blur.

“Yep,” Wes says above him. “You’re lucky Gran and Mom and decided to sleep in a little later today and haven’t come in here or else you’d be in a shit load of trouble.”

“What about Dad?”

“He’s in his office.”

“And did he see me and Maka here?”

“Not sure,” Wes shrugs. “If he did, he probably didn’t notice or care. He’s been a little… standoffish since the other night, and Mom says she has something to tell us tonight at dinner if that makes you feel any better.”

“Why would that make me feel better?”

“‘Cause I think it has something to do with her and Dad.”

All Soul can do is blink at his brother in confusion because his tired brain can’t make any connections at the moment. It’s too busy focusing on Maka’s warmth on top of him and her gentle snoring as she continues sleeping through the conversation. She had always teased him for oversleeping or sleeping through a tornado, but the truth is, she’s not that much different from him.

“Hurry and get up before Mom sees you like this. Unless you want her to of course.”

“Give me a few minutes, okay? I gotta wake up Maka.”

“Yeah. Sure. I'll see you in a bit, little brother.”

He waits for his brother to disappear to wherever it is he's going before nudging Maka with his hand and softly calling her name. She takes a minute or two to fully wake up, blearily glancing around at her surroundings before realizing she's on top of Soul. It's sweet how she wraps her arms around him and curls herself to him upon noticing it's him, but his heart still aches because it isn't real. Her mind is playing tricks on her because it doesn't remember she hates his guts which is probably the worst feeling in the world.

“I love you, Soul,” Maka says, her voice still addled with sleep, and his heart stops for a millisecond.

Maka goes still on top of him as her words reach her ears, and Soul swallows audibly at the confession. He doesn't want to confirm what she had said, but he knows he has to. It's the only way he can calm his rapidly beating heart and soothe the high hopes at her words buzzing through his brain.

“What did you say?” he asks after a minute of silence.

Her hands curls on his chest and she pushes herself up, not meeting his gaze as she combs her hands through her hair, and he doesn't know which is worse. That she's avoiding the question or she stalling for time.

Finally, she says, “I didn't mean it.”

“Yeah, I, uh, figured that,” he says. It doesn't calm his heart, and it doesn’t prevent his heart from shattering in his chest because he had hoped for a minute there she meant it.

“What time is it?” she asks, turning toward him but not meeting his gaze.

Soul checks his phone sitting on the ground and tells her it’s close to three in the afternoon which surprise them both. He didn’t think they had fallen asleep for that long.

“I’m gonna go… do something,” she says, standing from the ground and dusting herself off. “I’m sorry for what I had said. It was a mistake.”

“It’s fine,” he brushes off, diverting his gaze away from her.

* * *

Maka manages to escape to their bedroom before she finally collapses and allows herself to accept the slight confession she had made to Soul. It had slipped out of it’s own accord, completely unbidden, and had been a mistake. At least, she hopes it had been a mistake because she isn’t wholly sure that’s the truth. She does love Soul, she knows that much is true, but she doesn’t know if it’s enough to forgive him for what he had done, and if it is, she needs to come clean to Soul that she knows about his secret. She needs to tell him about what had happened the night before she broke up with him because it’s the only way she can go forward with any of this.

It’s going to take her a while to get to that point in their relationship, but she knows it has to happen. Soon. Probably tomorrow because it’s the only logical way that makes sense. If she wants to rid herself of this entire experience and feelings, she needs to tell Soul the truth about their breakup and find out if he loves  _ her _ more than he loves Maka.

It’s the only way.

* * *

Later that night, Maka sits next to Soul as Evelyn announces to her family her and Charles are getting a divorce. Her husband is nowhere to be seen which Maka figures is a typical man thing, being too afraid to show his face when something so drastic is brought to the table such as a divorce. Her own father had been the same way when her mama sat her down to tell her about their separation at the age of fifteen, so why would Soul’s father be any different.

No one at the table seems to be surprised at the news, though. They were all suspecting it deep down, and Maka has to admit she probably would have expected it to happen sooner or later through the short time she had met and spoken to Charles. He spoke so poorly to his family it isn’t surprising someone as strong and kind as Evelyn would want him out of her family’s life. Hell, she would have. Her own mama had wanted Spirit out of her life after all the infidelity.

But still, it feels weird to know Soul’s parents are going through a separation so late in life.

“Are you okay with it?” Maka asks Soul as he changes into his pajamas. She doesn’t bother diverting her gaze from him as he discards the shirt he has on and changes it to another.

“Am I okay with what?”

“Your parents getting a divorce.”

“Don’t really have much of a choice, do I?” he asks with a slight shrug. “Not like I can stop them from getting a divorce, and, really, it’s for the better. You saw how my dad is. He’s a shit father and husband. He isn’t good at either of them, and if my mom wants him out of her life, good riddance.”

“So you’re okay with it?”

“I don’t have any other choice, Maka,” he says, sitting down on his side of the bed. “I don’t even like my father, to tell you the truth. I’m not going to the audition he wants me to go to, and he’ll be pissed when finds out, but who the fuck cares. Being in a symphony isn’t part of the life I want for myself.”

She nods even if he can’t see it.

Silence falls between them as they both settle into bed, burying themselves under the blankets, facing each other to Maka’s enjoyment. She likes falling asleep to Soul’s face rather than his back. Exactly like old times.

“Hey, Maka,” he asks so quietly she barely hears him.

“Hmm,” she hums.

“Did you mean it when you said you love me?”

Maka bites her bottom lip as she debates whether to answer him or not because this isn’t how she wanted to confess and reveal everything to him. Being in bed together like this is intimate and nice, but it isn’t ideal for what she has to share with him. So she hakes her head and flips over onto her other side giving him back because she can’t face him. Not like this. Not right now.

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” she tells him. “I’m too tired to talk anymore.”

“Don’t forget tomorrow we’re supposed to be fake breaking up, “ he reminds her again, and her heart sinks.

So he really wants to go through with this.


	7. I'm Confessin'

The next morning Maka wakes to her face buried against Soul’s chest, his arm gently wrapped around her waist, and it’s so warm and comforting having him around her like this. His light pine and woodsy scent invades her senses the longer she lays there; an intoxicating scent she can never get tired of because it’s inherently  _ him _ . It’s him on the back of his bike as he rides through the streets of the city, zooming in and out of cars which is fairly dangerous, but she trusts him to be safe when he does so.

It’s him after a night of driving around town to waste time and admire the city lights, when the roar of his bike and his back where the only thing that could lull her to sleep. The scent is embedded in her brain, wraps around her like an old blanket, and she doesn’t want to ever leave him. He’s so warm and good and nice. 

But all things have to come to an end sometime.

Tightening her arms around him, she buries her nose against his chest and takes a long whiff of his aftershave only to feel him stir beneath her and she stills. His yawn is the first thing to warn her he’s awake, and she silently hopes he doesn't do anything stupid. Like remind her about their upcoming fake breakup. Unfortunate for her, she can't be so lucky. 

“Today's the day,” he grumbles, not bothering to comment on their current position. 

The slow beating of his heart tells her isn't at all fazed by their touching like she is which saddens her slightly. 

“For us to fake breakup,” he adds when she doesn't say anything. 

Maka chews on the inside of her mouth as she lays there hugging Soul to her, noting the way he doesn't hug her back, and it's disappointing. Disappointing because it serves to confirm that maybe he doesn't want to be with her again after all. She had suspected at some points that maybe he did want to be with her; that somewhere deep down Soul still loved her, but know she isn't so sure. 

“Yeah, I guess it is,” she says unraveling herself from Soul. “Sorry about… being close to you like that.”

“It's fine,” he shrugs. He scratches his chest where the scar he had received from his motorcycle a long time ago rests. “Didn't mind it much.”

She nods, not trusting her voice as she gets up from the bed and stretches her back out. Maybe if she stalls long enough she can avoid their fake breakup to tell Soul the truth about everything. 

“I'm gonna get dressed and head down to breakfast,” she tells him. “I'll see you down there?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “You wanna argue then or…?”

“We’ll see,” she tells him before turning on her heels, grabbing her clothes for the day, and heading to the bathroom. 

About half an hour passes before Soul saunters down the stairs, his hair a fussy mess on top of his head and held back with his signature black headband. She swallows down the flutter her heart gives at the sight of him and instead focuses on the coffee slowly dropping into her mug before she removes it puts in the cream and sugar. Soul’s presence sits heavy against, filling every ounce of her, and she braces herself for what's to come. He has it in his mind they're going to fake breakup, but she doesn't want to do that after all. 

* * *

“Morning, Maka,” he says, kissing her cheek. “You're lookin’ mighty pretty today.”

It's meant to be a backhanded compliment if the hint of snideness in his tone is anything to go by, and he prays Maka realizes what he's doing or else this will be for naught. They're meant to argue and fight and be on the verge of a breakup to trick his family into believing they're done. He expects her to play along, to continue this rouse until the end of tomorrow, but he has a small inking she's having second thoughts. Soul can't exactly put his thumb on top of what it can be that's swaying her away from the initial plan, but everything about her has told him she isn't wholly in it. 

And, as of to confirm this, she doesn't take his bait. 

“Thank you,” she tells him with a small smile. “It's called waking up to the sounds of my significant other snoring so loudly.”

She's joking with him. It's adorable, but annoying at the same time. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he tells her. “Didn't mean to be so loud.”

“It's fine. I'm used to it by now.” She steps on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before walking into the dining room. 

Soul catches his brother's gaze who only waffles his eyebrows at him, and he refrains from growling under his breath. Something's up with Maka, he can feel it, because the Maka he knows is supposed to hate his guts and return his backhanded compliments without complaints. The Maka he knows is supposed to end this rouse so she can go back to living her life peacefully single in their apartment curled up with Blair. Except, the way Maka is acting tells him differently. 

They sit down to breakfast, his father ignoring everyone around him as he sifts through the papers sitting in front of him. Thankfully he doesn't mention the audition Soul is meant to attend in a few weeks. He doesn't think he can handle another argument between the two of them of what his father wants and what he wants because it'll be the same old games as usual, and he doesn't want to end his week at the lake house like that. He doesn't want to end it fighting  with Maka either but beggars can't be choosers. 

After everyone's done eating, Soul pulls Maka aside and off to a room where they'll be alone to ask her what's wrong. 

“Is everything okay? You didn't take to the bait earlier.”

“I'm fine,” she tells him. “I'm just thinking that maybe we shouldn't be doing this.”

He blinks, unsure of what she means. “You mean this whole pretending to still be together thing?”

“Yes, and no?” 

She pauses, rolling her teeth over her bottom as she stares up at him. Her eyes are searching his for something, but what he can’t figure out. 

“Nevermind,” she says after a moment. “It can wait until later.”

Turning on her heels, she heads out the door and leaves Soul staring dumbfoundedly at empty space. 

* * *

Maka spends the rest of the day avoiding Soul completely, biding her time with his family members and enjoying their company and stalling the inevitable. Lucky for her, they plan on ending the week at the lake house with a bonfire reminiscent of the barbeque they had when first came which is when she plans on telling Soul the truth. It isn’t fair to him how long she’s kept things a secret from him; isn’t fair she hadn’t even given him a chance to explain himself when she caught him with another woman.

And that’s what makes this entire thing so bad, isn’t it?

The fact she pulled a usual Maka by jumping to conclusions without a second thought in her head and refusing to let Soul tell his side of the story. But that Maka is no longer because tonight she’s going to give him the chance to explain himself, and if he does indeed love this other girl -- a newer, prettier model of Maka -- she’ll let him go completely. 

No sense letting her heart break longer than it needs to over a stupid boy who doesn’t care about her.

* * *

Soul follows his family out to the lake where the bonfire is already set up. It’s their final chance to fight and bicker with each other and lead up to a future breakup so Maka will never have to see him again save for the few times he has custody of Blair. But even as they walk beside each other, he feels Maka distancing herself from him, over thinking whatever’s bothering her in that big brain of hers. It’s risky to remind her of what’s to come, but it’s a chance he’ll take.

“This is our last chance to fight. Are you ready?” he whispers low enough for her only to hear.

But she doesn’t respond. 

She pauses the moment he reminds her drawing Soul to follow suit. After a minute or two of her silence, he says, “Maka? You okay?”

* * *

Maka doesn’t say a word as she stares at Soul.

She must look like an idiot to him, but she can't find the right words to tell him she doesn't want this. The plan had been for them to go their separate ways when all of this is over and be through with each other, but her second thoughts and fears and love for him are too strong. What she wants is to be with him --  _ really _ be with him. Not for a week or for show or for pretend; she wants him to be the first and last person she sees, to kiss him anytime she desires without an excuse, share her fears and worries and how her day went with. He's the one she wants to spend the rest of her life and create a family with and share memories with. It's him, it's always been him, and she needs to stop running from pathetic problems her parents had because that isn't them. 

Soul loves her more than Papa loved Mama, and isn't that worth taking a risk for?

“Maka?” The sound of his voice pulls Maka out of her thoughts. “You okay? You've been acting kinda weird today. Are you feeling okay?”

He presses his hand to her forehead, and she bites back a scoff because it's such a  _ him _ thing to do. Be worried about her before they're supposed to fake break-up or even after they have actually broken up. It warms her heart, though, because she doesn't expect anything less from him. 

“You don't have a fever,” he says, more to himself. “So what's up?”

_ It's time to tell the truth _ . 

“Can we talk for a moment before going inside?” Maka asks. 

White brows knit together in confusion before relaxing and Soul nods. “Yeah. Sure.”

She doesn't respond save for a slight head tilt for him to follow her. Maka leads the way to where the wood pier sits over the lake, settling down on top and patting the space next to her for him to join her. They sit there in silence and listen to the crickets chirp into the dead of night. Stars twinkle above them like small fireflies against a backdrop of black as the full moon casts white light around it. Her hands twist and knot in her lap while she vainly attempts to calm her nerves, but ultimately fails. Soul doesn't say anything when a minute passes nor when another and another does, and she's grateful he doesn't because she's scared she'll get cold feet and run. 

It isn't until he places his hand on her knee and gently squeezes that she feels her body relax. 

“I wanna talk about why we broke up in the first place,” she starts, not meeting his gaze. “I never gave you the details of why I did it, and I think I should tell you.”

“You had been acting weird for a while before we broke up. You stopped going to lunch with me during the week, started making up excuses for why you were coming home late, and I got worried. Scared, is a better word for it, because it reminded me of what Papa used to do to Mama when he was cheating on her.” She pauses when Soul removes his hand from her knee. The skin he had been touching falls cold and lonely, but she continues. 

“Then one night I woke up to find you getting dressed at midnight and leaving the apartment without telling me anything so I followed you to a diner, and I saw a girl there and she was so pretty… I got scared. I thought you were cheating on me with her which is why you didn’t tell me. Why else would you leave the apartment without telling me anything.” 

Maka chews on her bottom lip before meeting his gaze and asking the question she’s been battling with for the last two months.

“Do you love this new girl more than me?”

“First, before I answer that, what did the girl look like?”

“Long blonde hair, pretty blue eyes, and a much bigger chest than I’ll ever have,” Maka says a little bitterly.

His light laugh is what annoys her the most, and she almost hits him for thinking it appropriate. 

“Maka, that wasn’t another girl. It was, but not in the way you think. She’s a girl my dad tried to hook me up with a long time ago, Anya. Her family is royalty, and my dad thought us getting together would make the Evans family look good on the music world since his son was a shit musician.”

“What happened?”

“She’s kinda not into guys.”

“Oh.” 

It’s a small, pathetic ‘oh’ because Maka feels so idiotic for even believing Soul would cheat on her for a minute. This is the guy who gets nervous running a red light in the middle of the day because he’s paranoid a cop is somewhere around the corner waiting for him to fuck him. The guy who hates getting his good clothes dirty because he paid a lot to get them dry cleaned; the guy who can’t go a day without showering because, even if he’s a self-proclaimed man, he hates feeling dirty. The guy who spends hours putting gel in his hair and setting it the right way and fusses when Maka runs her hands through it too much when he’s eating her out. 

“God, I’m an idiot,” she sighs. “I should’ve known or at least asked you what was up instead of… I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions and broke things off with you, and I shouldn’t have done that.”

He raises his hand and brushes it over her cheek, pulling a few strands behind her ear. His smile is kind and warm as he fondly stares at her, and she feels less of an idiot.

“I should’ve told you where I was going, but she called telling me about some bullshit her family was going through and needed someone to talk to. I’m just as much at fault.”

Maka places her hand over his and smiles. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

“They do say birds of a feather flock together.”

“I think there’s something else that follows that that isn’t so good.”

“Stop being a brainiac for once in your life, Maka.”

She laughs. 

They stare at each other for another few minutes before she licks her lips and says, “So does this mean we can get back together?”

“Do you wanna get back together?”

“I do if you do.”

“Then we’re back together.”

Soul licks his own lips and her heart warms when he leans in close to her. Without saying a word, she fills in the rest of the space between them and presses her lips to his. It’s warm and sweet and chaste and everything good in the world. Her heart flutters when he rolls his tongue over the seam of her lips before it slips through to taste her, the taste of fire and smoke strong on his breath either from the warm air around them or the faint scent of the bonfire in the distance she isn’t sure. What she does know is that it’s the best feeling in the world, and she’s so glad to have him back in her life. 

* * *

He growls when she pulls him down for a kiss, guiding his body over hers and raising her hips ever so slightly. It delights her more than it should to feel the noise vibrate against her mouth, the hardness of his groin rubbing against her, but she supposes it's okay as well. They've gone two whole months without any physical contact from the other. Two months of her trying to pleasure herself with her hands, and him no doubt doing the same with poor or unsatisfying results.

The moments leading up to the sex is clumsy as they spend too long fiddling with belts and pants that don’t want to go down all the way without some force. She doesn’t think she’s ever laughed as much as she does when Soul struggles taking off her bra, joking he’s out of practice and earning a playful swat from when he finally gets it undone. His kisses are sweet, the feel of his tongue on her breasts and nipples freeing and wonderful, and his mouth working against her core relieves so much of the aching she hasn’t been able to rid herself of since their break up.

Her favorite part is when she asks Soul if he has a condom, and he has to go ask his brother for one only because Soul fucks up and puts on her sleep pants instead of his. She imagines it must have been an entertaining sight that Wes won’t soon let his brother live down. 

When they finally get to the sex, it’s probably the best they’ve ever had. Soul’s movements are slow and languid as he thrusts in and out of her, his kisses mimicking his movements, but she doesn’t mind it at all because there’s a connection between them when they come at the same time. The hoarse sound of them crying out each other’s name into the dead of night followed by their heavy panting as they lay next to each other completely spent.

It’s the picturesque way to end a week away from the city, life, and the perfect way for her to return to her soulmate. 


	8. Sweeter Than Fiction

The next morning, much to Soul’s annoyance, he finds Wes in the kitchen the next day with no one else around, and the shit-eating grin is enough to tell Soul exactly what his brother’s thinking. He avoids him, though, as he makes his way over to the keurig, grabbing a two cups to make him and Maka coffee. Unfortunately his efforts are rendered useless when Wes makes his way over to lean on the counter and sips his own drink. After a minute or two of his brother’s gaze boring into him, Soul finally turns to address him.

“What do you want?” Soul growls, glaring at his brother. “If it’s about anything that has to do with last--”

“So you and Maka had fun, huh?” Wes asks, waggling his brows.

“Shut the fuck up, Wes. I’d rather not talk about what happens between me and Maka with you.”

Wes lets out a small laugh as he says, “I think you should’ve thought about that before coming to me about condoms… I also think you should take into consideration your girlfriend isn’t exactly the _silent_ type when you’re ramming into her.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Soul chides. “You make it sound gross and disturbing.”

“How else do you want me to say it?”

“I’d rather you not say it at all, to be honest. She’s my girlfriend,” the word sounds foreign on his tongue but the warmth that bursts over his chest is welcoming, “and I kinda love her. Ramming sounds like she’s a one night stand.”

 _Like one of the people you sleep with_ , he thinks.

“Fine. If I say making love, does that make it sound better?”

“Kinda.”

“Either way, Maka isn’t quiet when you two are in bed, and you should be thankful it was me in the bedroom next door instead of mom. Or would you rather be having this conversation with her instead?”

Soul mulls it over. He’d rather not be having the conversation with anyone to be perfectly honest, but if he had to choose, Wes hearing him and Maka in bed is less embarassing than his mother.

“You. I guess,” Soul tells him with a shrug. He switches out the cups beneath the machine and starts on Maka’s, preparing his own as he talks to Wes. “Can you just hurry up and get the gloating or whatever out? I’d like to keep this conversation as short as possible.”

“Gloating? You think I’m gloating? My little brother getting some on a family vacation when I’m the one who’s usually in that position? Why would I gloat? I’m teasing you, Soul. There’s a difference.”

“I did say _whatever_ ,” Soul mumbles under his breath. “Just get it out of your system now before I go back upstairs.”

“I can see you're in a hurry to go back to your girlfriend,” Wes says, leaning on the counter, “so I'll be quick. Next time you and Maka come here, I expect to either hear news about a niece/nephew in the works or see said niece/nephew.”

The grin on Wes’ face is wide and cocky and the desire to punch it off him is strong, but his only response is a slight twitch of his fingers as he grabs the two coffee mugs and turns away, careful not to spill the hot liquid on himself.

“Goodbye, Wesley,” he growls over his shoulder. “And if you mention that to Maka, I'm gonna kick your ass if she doesn't do it first.”

When Soul reaches the foot of the stairs, Wes says, “Don't be too loud with the morning sex. Remember Mom and Gran are still in the house, and we wouldn't want to scar them.”

“Wesley!” Soul shouts in warning.

* * *

“Why were you shouting at your brother?” Maka asks as Soul hands her the cup of coffee.

“Because he’s being an ass,” Soul grumbles.

“That doesn't mean you have to yell at him, Soul. You'll wake the whole house, and I don't think your mom or grandma would like being woken up so early.”

“Trust me, Maka, he deserved it.” Soul settles on his side of the bed, and she takes the opportunity to curl up next to him, tucking her legs under her, and careful not to spill her coffee on the bed. “Sure. Get comfortable. I can work around you no problem.”

“You're so considerate,” she says. She giggles when he rolls his eyes and groans, and she kisses his cheek in response. “Does that make you feel better?”

Soul’s mouth pulls into a tight line, but he can't hide the slight twitch. “No. Maybe one more well, though.”

Maka bites her bottom lip to keep from giggling at his blatant ploy and comes up with a plan. “Oh really?”

“Mhm. It's the only way to make it better.”

She takes a drink of her coffee before placing it on the nightstand next to her and climbing into Soul’s lap, placing his cup down as well. His eyes widen at the change of position, but his surprise doesn't last long as he lifts his gaze to meet hers, his hands sliding beneath her night shirt. Her breathing comes out unsteady at the feel of warmth on her body; her heartbeat picking up speed when he tightens his grip on her. Even her stomach lurches when he tugs he closer to him, his sanguine eyes darkening with love and desire.

“This works too,” he says, his voice deep and setting her heart to flutter.

“Really?” Maka says in the calmest voice she can muster.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she tugs on the white tufts in the hopes it'll make things even and leans down until her lips are inches from his. His eyes flit from hers down for the briefest of seconds before they’re on hers again and his tongue flicks out in the space between them. She feels his pulse quicken beneath her fingertips, and she smiles.

“Does this make up for it?”

“Mmm,” he hums. “It does, but it still isn’t a kiss.”

“You're hopeless,” she teases before pressing her lips to his.

A content sigh fills the air in the bedroom, and she feels him relax beneath her touch. The kiss is slow and languid and chaste, his chapped lips moving in time with hers, and she remembers how much she missed this. Missing Soul raw, unbidden, with no hidden desires beneath it because while every fiber in her body aches for him, she'll gladly kiss him a thousand times before they sleep together again. She'll take the fire scorching her skin, the fuzzy, lightness of her heart, and the taste of his mouth on hers over anything every day. This is what she's missed in the last two months; kissing.

They break apart a moment later. Neither of them from their position as Maka adjusts his bangs and straightens them out, admiring the way he watches her as she does so. The look that silently begs her to stay with him and be with him.

“So I guess I'm forgiven now?” she asks if only to break their silence.

“I missed,” he whispers.

Her heart constricts in her chest at his words, and her hand falters where it rests. She didn't realize how much she's wanted to hear him say that, how much she's craved for it these last two months, and a surge of emotions rise to the surface like molten lava. Maka buries her face in the crook of his neck before the first tear falls down her cheek. His arms tighten around her, holding her close to him, and she listens to the beating of his heart to calm herself. The _thump, thump, thump_ like a sweet lullaby she hasn't heard in so long.

“I missed you, too,” she whispers.

* * *

“I hope you'll join Soul the next time he comes,” Evelyn tells Maka as she pulls her into a warm embrace. “We really enjoyed having you here with us.”

Maka's eyes flicker over to where Soul is talking to his brother, and she smiles. “I'll be back. I promise.”

“Good,” Evelyn says releasing Maka from the hug. “I think Soul also liked having you here. I haven't seen that boy smile so much once when coming out here. I don't know what you do for him, but whatever it is I’m thankful for it. You're good for him.”

“Thank you,” Maka says, a little touched, a little flustered by Evelyn’s words.

“Yeah, next time you two come I hope you’ll bring news of a niece/nephew,” Wes says with a wink as he makes his way over to them.

Soul growls his name in warning while Maka squeaks and blushes.

“W-what? Who said--Soul!” Maka turns to the boy in question and glares at him. “What have you been telling your brother?”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” he defends. “That’s why I was yelling at him this morning! I told you he deserved it.”

“We’re not having kids,” Maka says, whirling back at the eldest Evans brother. “We’re not even married. We haven’t even talked about that yet. I don’t know--We’re not having kids anytime soon.”

She feels warmer standing in the beating sun, the collar of her shirt tightening around her neck as a burning flush spreads over her skin. Her and Soul hadn’t even been together for the last two month let alone have had the chance to talk about anything that goes beyond this weekend. Where Wes had gotten the idea they were ready for kids is beyond her. It probably had to do with his lack of knowledge about their break-up and the wall between them up until last night. Either way, it doesn’t take away the embarrassment coursing over her at the mere thought.

“Wesley, stop teasing your brother and Maka,” Evelyn lightly reprimands with a roll of her eyes. The same eye roll Maka notices for the first time is similar to Soul’s. “Wait until they’re engaged to bring up the subject of kids, at least. I know that’s what I’m waiting for.”

Evelyn smiles at Soul and winks, and the younger Evans groans.

“Mom, seriously. Not you too.”

“What? Is it wrong for your mother to ask her children for grandchildren? I’m not getting any younger, Soul, and it’s not like I can depend on your brother here having children of his own.”

“Yeah, but can Maka and I at least talk about that privately? Together? We don’t need my family bugging us about it before we’ve even talked about kids. We’re not even engaged,” Soul whispers.

“I know. That’s why I’m going to say there’s no pressure. Whenever you two decide to have--”

“Subjects being dropped,” Soul waves off. Evelyn’s warm blue eyes darken as she gives Soul _the look_ only a mother can give her children. It warns of danger, and Soul has the decency to look sheepish as he says, “Sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean for it to come rude.”

“Apology accepted,” Evelyn tells him, her voice hard as stone. When she speaks to Maka again, her tone changes back to the sweet one Maka’s grown to love and adore over the week. “Really, Maka, I don’t talk about children to rush things. It’s just something a mother has to do to remind her own kids she’s waiting. I’m sure you understand.”

In a weird way, she does.

“Of course,” Maka waves. “There’s no pressure.”

“Oh, so I can text you two little reminders--” Wes starts before Maka cuts in.

“If you do that, I’ll make sure you don’t see the light of day ever again,” she growls. Evelyn she can handle teasing about children and marriage, but Wes is another story entirely. She knows him far too well through the stories Soul has shared with her in the past to not be totally clueless to his antics.

Wes’ face pales as Soul snickers beside her, and even Evelyn seems to be entertained by the exchange.

To Soul, she says, “I like her. You should definitely keep her close to you.”

Soul’s laughs uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck as a blush creeps over his face, and Maka feels the same echoed on her own. It’s funny how they managed to keep their break-up a secret for so long. She thinks if she hadn’t fallen back in love with Soul and if they hadn’t gotten back together, she would’ve spilled the beans a couple of days ago about the truth of their relationship status. But in an equally funny way, she’s glad they’re back together.

“You two leaving without saying goodbye to me,” Gran says, emerging from the house. “Don’t know when I’ll see you two again, especially this one,” she nods at Soul, “so I best get a hug before you two disappear.”

Maka laughs as she makes her way to bid farewell to Soul’s grandma, and he follows to join her. Thankfully there isn’t any teasing or comments about children from them before they head to where their luggage is to make their way down the path to where their cab waits.

Her boyfriend threads his fingers with hers and smiles and her heart warms underneath it.

* * *

Maka drapes her legs over his lap while she leans against the window of their cabin reading her book.

Sunlight streams in to highlight her hair in shades of gold, creating a slight halo behind her, and Soul feels the ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth. A strange mix of warmth and joy swirl around his chest as he runs his hands along her calves, enjoying the feel of her skin on his. It’s completely different in comparison to how they had started this week out. She didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted everything to do with her, and they had couldn’t have been further away from each other.

Now, it’s like they’ve fallen back to who they had been before their break-up.

Happy and together.

Green eyes lift to meet his and draws him out of the daydream.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You’ve been staring at me for the last fifteen minutes. It feels weird.”

“I can’t stare at my girlfriend while she reads now?”

She wiggles slightly in her seat. “I haven’t gotten used to that yet, I guess.”

“It’s only been a day so I wouldn’t be surprised. We were broken up for two months, and that’s a long time to not be around each other.”

A moment of silence falls between them. Maka chews on her bottom lip, brows furrowing as a thought crosses her mind.

“You think it’ll be easy to go back to who we were before?”

He shrugs. “Don’t see why not. It was easy for us to pretend to be together this last week. Probably’ll take us some time to get used to each other again, but I think we can manage. Right?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

There’s a hint of uncertainty in her tone, and he pats her leg reassuringly.

“It’ll be fine, Maka. _We’ll_ be fine. We just gotta communicate.”

“Right,” she nods. “We can’t keep things from each other and jump to conclusions like I did before.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

* * *

Fear still embeds itself in the pit of her stomach.

Buries itself further and further and feeds into the worries and uncertainties she’s had in the past; the ones that are old as time itself. But the more logical part of her reassures her things will be better this time around since she knows Soul. He isn’t the man she assumed he was, he isn’t like her father, she isn’t like her mother, _they_ aren’t like her parents or his. They’re their own people who have forged their own path. They love each other and care about the other more than anything else in the world, and she decides that’s enough to continue on their journey.

Whether it’s easy or not, so long as she has him by her side, she can get through it.

There’s only one thing left to ask him.

“Do you think you'll wanna move back in with me?” she asks, hating how it sounds like a desperate plea.

She did indeed miss him, but she had also functioned perfectly well for two months without him. Her world didn't revolve around Soul Evans and what he did for her. More like she enjoys having Soul Evans be a part of her world and wants to make new memories with him.

“Dunno,” he shrugs. “I’d probably miss Black*Star’s stench, and I'd have to get used to the smell of girl again, but I think maybe it'd be worth it.”

Maka smiles and softly kicks him with the heel of her foot. “You're a butt, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I'm your butt,” he says, affectionately squeezing her knee. “And you love for me it.”

“If it helps you sleep at night, you're more than welcome to believe that,” she teases.

He only smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corner and the reds of his irises a soft, sunset color. “I love you.”

It catches her off guard for a split second, and the words to say escape her. She wracks her brain for anything to respond with -- a witty remark, a term of endearment, calling him a dick -- but a lump in her throat prevents her from doing so. All she manages to do is blush, though, as an announcement fills their cabin announcing they’ve arrived at their destination. Soul gives her knee another squeeze before pushing her legs off him and standing.

“Want me to take your suitcase for you?” he asks, rummaging around for his own.

“I can take it myself, thank you.” Maka stands and adjusts her skirt, nose lifted in the air. “I’m a strong girl, you know.”

“I know,” he says, kissing her cheek and deepening the blush on her cheeks. She growls, though, she secretly enjoys it if the warmth over her belly is anything to go by. “I said it to be polite.”

“You’re a real charmer,” she sniffs.

She gives him a small smile hoping to subdue the slight change to hostile in her tone, and Soul returns it letting her know he understands. Maybe that’s why they had always worked so well in the past. He knows her slight jabs aren’t meant to be taken lightly and that, in truth, they’re done to conceal the real emotions boiling under her skin. Her hostility is a cover up because she hasn’t been taught anything else; she learned how to love from her parents which has never been the best example.

But, as they exit the train and enter the station, she thinks maybe learning how to love Soul properly can be done. It’ll take her sometime to unlearn certain habits and switch them with healthier options, but so long as he’s there with her, it won’t be too hard to manage. He loves her, she loves him, and they understand each other. Those three aspects alone are important in a relationship. Along with trust, of course, and she trusts Soul above anyone else. After all, he it had been her own foolishness for thinking he was cheating on her when he wasn’t.

They stand by the street outside of the station, their luggage next to Maka as Soul tries to hail a taxi. She laughs after the fifth cab rolls by him to another person near them and comments it might be the scary features of a demon pushing them away and he waves his hand in front of him for her to do better. Much to his disappointment, she attracts one of the yellow cars the instant they switch places and she flings her arm out.

“You’re just lucky,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Jealous?”

Soul rolls his eyes and nudges her as he rolls their suitcases to the back of the cab to hand them to the driver. The smile he gives her is soft and sincere, the one he’s given her far too many times for her to count in the past, and her heart flutters like the wings of a butterfly.

“I love you too,” she finally says.

He hesitates.

Sanguine eyes lift to meet hers before he cups her chin between his grasp and pulls her towards him to press her lips to his. It’s chaste and sweet and doesn’t last for more than a minute, but it means the world to her nonetheless. Because starting over with Soul won't be easy, they'll still have their mishaps and fights and arguments, but she doesn't doubt they'll get through it so long as they're together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this fic!! I hope you enjoyed this story! And don't forget to check out Leslie's art over on tumblr and give her some likes and reblogs. She worked really hard with the art she did for this fic, and I am so grateful for everything she did!


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